Babel
by silvia x
Summary: Katja Goldsmith doesn't know what she's doing in Japan. She doesn't speak Japanese, she doesn't like sushi, and she doesn't know what manga is. Unfortunately for her, however, she's just what the Host Club's looking for.
1. Symphony Of A Hostage

**(A/N)** I am clichéd.

**Disclaimer:** This protects us not-so-humble MarySue-ers. Or at least, this I assume.

* * *

_I like songs about drifters, books about the same_

_They both seem to make me feel a little less insane._

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Symphony Of A Hostage

Katja Goldsmith was confused, more confused than she had ever been before in her life. Hand her a Tchaikovsky to sight-read, no problem, ask her to write a three hundred page thesis on watermelons in two days, sure, but stick her in a foreign country…now there was slight issue.

She had mulled over the situation at hand for the entire nine-hour flight from Germany to Japan, and had gotten nowhere, only earning herself a migraine and a nasty case of jetlag. It hadn't seemed real, and not until had she stepped off the plane and into the airport did Katja realize that this was no dream. The signs surrounding her were, in fact, written in Japanese and the majority of the people around her were speaking Japanese. Every so often, she heard a snippet of something she could understand, whether it was in German or English, but everything else was lost on her.

Which Katja found extremely perplexing, considering she was visiting Japan as a foreign exchange student to a private academy.

Had the situation been a normal one, had she had proper notice of the event, Katja would have at least _attempted_ to learn some of the language of the country she was going to be living in for the next six to twelve months. But only three days prior had she received a call from the dean of her school, breathlessly explaining that she had been selected to attend Ouran High School as an exchange student. Free of charge. She had, of course, accepted, out of shock more than anything else, and had barely the time to pack every item of clothing she owned into her trunk, let alone realize that she didn't know anything about Japan.

And now, standing blinking in the late afternoon sun that was shining through the glass ceiling of the airport lobby, Katja was beginning to wish more and more that she had simply stayed in bed that morning. She leaned on the tall plastic case beside her, the one that held her favorite instrument and her personal forte, a cello. Fingers toying with the sticky tags from customs at the handle, Katja recalled the curious conversation she had had with a representative from the Japanese high school over the phone just the day before she had left Germany. The man had specifically told her to bring her instrument with her to Japan, and it was this that she found this rather odd.

It wasn't as though Katja wasn't used to carting the heavy thing around, when she wasn't attending school; she was playing at some gala or another, her cello at her side. But that wasn't why she had come to Japan. She had come as a foreign exchange student, for a reason Katja didn't know.

And this was why Katja Goldsmith was confused. Confused because she was filling a position that was normally, or so she had thought, was given to students who actively study the language of the country in which they will be visiting, and confused because she had been expressly told to bring an item which had nothing to do with this. So to Katja, it was no surprise that, considering all the information, or lack therefore, she was beginning to feel as though she was being set up.

All the thinking she had been doing had aggravated her migraine, and Katja was feeling slightly dizzy. Shifting over, she collapsed in the very fashion she had been told not to behave in (in other words, like a lazy teenager) onto the top of her oversize trunk, only to sit up straighter when she heard the lid give an audible crack. A woman who had been standing besides her took a quick step to the right, creating a barrier of space between herself and Katja, despite the packed lobby.

"_Happy Christmas to you, too, ma'am," _thought Katja irately, rubbing her thumbs at her temples. Just another reason for her to want to jump on the next flight back to Germany. It was Christmas Eve, and she was without her family, without her traditions, without…anything. Did Japanese people even celebrate Christmas?

Yep, this was going to be a fabulous trip.

"_Where is that damn escort…isn't that how these things usually work, they send an escort to pick you up? Or do they expect me to get there on my own." _Just as confirmation, Katja glanced up, scanning the crowd of guides holding cardboard cards, for one with her name. Upon not finding one, she shrugged and slumped back against the wall behind her. _"Well if they can't bother to come get me, I'm guess I'm not going anywhere. Even if I could call a cab, I don't have any…what was it…yen, on me. Doubt the driver would like it if I paid him in Euro." _

Closing her eyes, Katja smiled as she imagined the expression of a Japanese cab driver as she handed him or her a wad of Euros. Enjoying the scene playing out inside her skull, Katja did not see the man clad in a rather expensive suit pushing his way through the sea of people towards her. She didn't even open her eyes until she felt the hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't hold back a shriek of surprise as she jumped.

"Ah, Herr, es tut mir Leid!" Katja apologized quickly when she noticed the Ouran crest on a pin in the man's lapel. Upon seeing the man's creased brow, she tried again in English, getting swiftly to her feet. "I'm sorry, sir, you…surprised me."

"_It is I who should be apologizing, miss Goldsmith," _said the man in accented German, soothing Katja slightly. "_There was a mix up with concerning your methods of transportation_."

Katja blanched. "_Am I in the wrong country or something_?"

The man chuckled at this and shook his head, snapping his fingers. Three bellmen appeared at his side out of seemingly nowhere, and he nodded towards Katja. She stepped hurriedly out of the way as the men made to pick up her trunk, grasping the handles at either end.

"Danke, es ist schwer," she said without thinking as the two bellmen heaved the trunk away and the third tipped the plastic case back onto its wheels. "Vorsichtig, bitte – mein neuer Cello ist in diesem Fall." One of the men shot her a strange look and Katja slapped a hand over her mouth. This was going to be a real problem if she could barely remember to speak the English she knew to the people most likely to understand it.

"_No, thankfully you're not_," the man went on finally, taking a very surprised Katja by the arm and pulling her rather than leading her after the bellmen carrying her luggage through the lobby doors onto the busy street outside. "_A private jet had been arranged to pick you up at the last moment, but when our representative tried to contact you to make the arrangements, you had already left for the airport. Through a horrendous series of events, our representative misplaced your flight information and the airline in Germany was in disarray over a mechanical problem on the prime minister of South Korea's plane. Fortunately, however, we were still able to track you down_."

This all sounded very unfortunate to Katja, but all the same, her cheeks were burning pink in embarrassment at all the trouble she had caused. "_I am very sorry, sir – it's a long drive from my home to the airport, so I had to leave very early_."

"_Yes, another thing our representative did not take into consideration_," replied the man mildly. Katja bit back the smile that was threatening to sneak across her lips.

"_Forgive me for saying so, sir, but it doesn't sound as though you like your representative very much_."

"_Very thankfully, he isn't my representative,_" replied the man with a small smile. "_By the way, you may call me Nakano._"

Katja had been about to thank the man when he came to a stop at the curb before a shining black limousine and the words halted halfway to her mouth. Another man in a suit, whom Katja could only assume was the driver, appeared and opened the car door, which Katja slid under after a nod from Nakano. He entered just as Katja was strapping herself into a seat belt and the door closed behind him. Thinking about how a town car would have been far more practical, Katja's stomach lurched as the limousine took off with surprising speed.

Nakano said nothing to Katja during the ride to Ouran High School, although she didn't think she could have held a conversation anyway; she was feeling quite ill. It was a long drive, and while Katja's brains were still slightly scrambled, she guessed that it took the limousine about three and a half hours to reach the school. But she was glad, seeing as how it gave her an opportunity to try and sleep off some of her jetlag, and Katja was thoroughly disappointed when Nakano touched her shoulder and told her that they had arrived.

Stumbling from the car, Katja would have fallen flat on her face if one of the bellmen hadn't caught her by the elbow in time. After thanking the man profusely in English, Katja scolded herself mentally for making an idiot out of herself for the second time that day. She was going to have to behave in a slightly more civilized manner if she ever were to have a hope of surviving at Ouran High School, which looked more like the mansion of an emperor rather than a school. Katja gaped openly at the huge expanse before her, and she felt her heart in her throat. This was clearly going to be a problem.

"_Something wrong_?" inquired Nakano, speaking German once more, as he stared down at her shocked expression. Katja, closing her mouth quickly, shook her head.

"_No, it's just that my dean forgot to tell me that this was a school for the children of presidents._"

Nakano chuckled again, making Katja feel as though she were the butt of some great joke. "_In a sense, yes. This is a school for the super rich. But surely you have experience in dealing with wealthy people, someone who does what you do._"

Katja shrugged uncertainly. "_Not really. I usually just shake their hands before my father sweeps me away to play the next piece._"

"_Well in that case, you are in for quite a surprise._"

Again, just as Katja had been about to ask him what exactly that meant, she found herself being swept away towards the school by another man in a suit identical to Nakano's, and Nakano himself turning away to supervise the moving of her luggage. The man grasping her arm walked at an alarmingly fast pace, and Katja almost had to run to keep up. Upon reaching the door to the largest building, after nearly tripping several times on the marble stairs, Katja found herself being passed off to another suited man.

Feeling insultingly like the baton in a relay, Katja barely had time to take in the splendor of the hall in which she was being rushed through. The man who's company she was in now, instead of passing her off to another runner, left her in front of a large set of doors, turning the handles for her and saying something in Japanese she had no hope of understanding before turning and dashing back the way they had come. He was out of sight before Katja even had the chance to call after him.

"_Well that was rather rude," _thought Katja, tilting her head to the side only to remember the throb inside of her skull. _"I'm rushed here in a limousine without explanation and then thirty seconds after I get here, I'm forced to run ten miles. I thought they would be all about manners here. Why did I agree to this again? I want to go home, I really, really, want to go-"_

"Goldsmith Katja? Please, come in," a voice called in English from behind the doors before her. Katja, forgetting where she was, started for a moment and then pushed open one of the doors, stepping inside and touching the door closed behind her again. A breath of awe slipped past her lips as her eyes took in the pure elegance of the room she was standing in.

The room more than made up for the entrance hall she had missed earlier, from the sparkling marble floor to the imperial rugs that lay across it, from the mahogany wood tables to the gold inlay swirling the ceiling around the crystal chandelier, Katja drank it all in like a man who has not had any water for days.

"I'm glad to see you've arrived, miss Goldsmith," said the same voice, and Katja's gaze searched for the source until it landed on a old, rather stern looking man with wire rim glasses sitting behind another splendid desk with a crystal top. His suit was midnight black, pressed and fitted, the same shade as his hair, which was arranged tastefully around his lined face. Katja didn't need someone to tell her that this was the director of Ouran High School to be able to figure it out.

"_Although he might very well think himself a king, by the look of his office,"_ Katja thought, stepping forwards at the man's beckoning. The director gestured to a chair in front of his desk, intentionally set to the side as to make it easier for him to pierce the occupant with his sharp glare.

But his dark eyes were not narrowed, as they usually were, when Katja had settled herself upon the surprising hard cushion, after awkwardly curtsying.

"It is to my understanding that you speak English, do you not, miss Goldsmith?" asked the director once she had gathered the courage to stare at his folded hands. While he was rather forward, Katja thought it would have been rude to look him directly in the face.

"I do, sir," replied Katja in English, for the first time since she had arrived in Japan. Her mind switched gears rapidly, summoning the rules of English grammar to the surface. It was time to put that supposedly brilliant mind of hers to work. "Since I was ten."

The director nodded unassumingly. "And how old are you now?"

"Sixteen, sir."

Another nod. "I'll bet you're wondering why you're here," said the director, a slightly amused note in his voice. Katja caught onto it at once. She really _was_ some joke to these people! She quickly noted that this shouldn't have surprised her.

"Yes, sir; I did find it rather strange that I should be allowed to attend your gorgeous school as a student in an exchange program, seeing as I speak no Japanese," Katja said, slightly quicker than she knew she should have, but she was eager to finally hear the answer. She even chanced a glance at the director's face, and he did not object.

The excitement must have shown in her already bright blue eyes, because the corners of the director's mouth curved upwards and his gaze softened further. Katja supposed it would have made anyone else look friendly, but it only made the director look creepier.

"I'm surprised, Katja, I would have thought that a gifted young woman such as yourself would have guessed the answer to that almost immediately."

"Probably, sir, but it's not my mind that's gifted, just my fingers," she said, lifting her hands and splaying her fingers as if to offer some authenticity to her answer. Indeed, if the director had bothered to look closer, he would have seen that the skin at the tips of her fingers was thick and dull, the result of pressing and plucking at stringed instruments since she had been a toddler. But the director's smile only widened and he shook his head slightly.

"Your hands are beautiful, certainly, and that is why you are here," he responded. "You see, Katja, this school has a refined reputation for culture and the arts and it is because of this that we hold an annual musical festival in May. The festival is one of our grandest and important figures from all different fields within Japan, and some outside, attend. It was through our vast network of communications with influential members of the musical world across the globe that we at Ouran were able to discover your young talent. However, since you reside in Germany, it was most convenient for us to choose you for admittance to our exchange program, seeing as how your academics are also of Ouran quality."

Katja nodded, swallowing this new information, but a mountain of questions soon formed inside her mind, each jostling to be asked first. "I understand, sir, but where and why do I come into the picture?" she said slowly and carefully. "Surely your school has plenty of students more talented than I to play at this festival."

At this, the director sighed unexpectedly. It wasn't an irritated sound; it was far more forlorn, as though the director had been reminded of something he didn't particularly want to think about. "Unfortunately, we do not. In previous years, Ouran has had a large number of students with great musical talent and interest, but recently, that talent has, quite literally, graduated from our midst. As we say, the Age of the Protégé is now dead."

Katja would have laughed at this ridiculous phrase had the director not been so serious. But in an instant he brightened and suddenly grabbed her hand and held it between his, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he didn't.

"But you, Katja Goldsmith, are our saving grace. Our new protégée centerpiece, our lovely little freshman exchange from Germany. You'll also bring a new international flair to the festival, which will no doubt impress our foreign friends."

Forcing a smile, Katja nodded in an excited manner as the director continued to talk, his face far happier than before, even though she had tugged her hand free of his grasp. She should have known this had been coming. In fact, Katja was aghast at herself for not realizing that an event such as this was going to take place. It wasn't the first time her talent had been exploited in such a way, but in all honestly, there were many worse things than having to live and play for some fancy school. It wasn't as though she wasn't getting her fair share; May was three months away, and that meant she would be living in completely _free_ luxury and enjoying some of the finest education available. Not to mention that the international schooling would look fantastic on her already impressive résumé.

"…We have a room for you prepared in the school's dormitories, and a class schedule will be explained to you tomorrow," said the director, just as Katja began listening his talk once more. "Also, I understand, you are a person of considerable wealth yourself, but have never been taught the proper ways of a lady of Ouran caliber. I will see to it that you are taught on how to become just that, by some of our students who have a large amount of expertise in that matter. You needn't worry about a thing, miss Goldsmith."

"Mister Director, sir," said Katja tentively, wary of interrupting him when he was clearly on a roll, "I have one question, sir, if I may?"

"Of course."

"As I said before, sir, I don't know or understand any Japanese. At all. Isn't it going to be a problem for me to attend class in a Japanese school when I speak only German and English…sir?"

"Worry not, Katja, worry not," the director replied, shaking his finger as though she were a small child. "Plenty of our students are quite fluent in English, as well as our staff. I'm sure you'll encounter no problems."

Although Katja had a million questions she was bursting to ask, she felt as though she had reached her limit and that continuing would borer on the vulgar. That coupled with the fact that the phone on the desk of the director had begun to ring shrilly, caused Katja to close her mouth and lapse into silence. The director answered the phone and began speaking in quick Japanese to the person on the either end, leaving Katja to wonder how the Japanese could understand anything anyone else was saying when they talked so fast, and why the director of Ouran High didn't have a receptionist.

"_Maybe he's too important to receive calls directly,"_ she mused, sneaking a side-glance at the wrinkles creasing the director's brow. _"He doesn't exactly seem like the director of a school such as Ouran. But then again, I don't exactly seem like someone who would be considered, what was it again, the 'new protégée centerpiece'…?"_

The sound of the director setting the phone back into the receiver averted Katja's attention from her own thoughts and back onto the director himself. He smiled again and rose from his desk chair, and feeling that it was what he expected her to do, Katja followed suit.

"Your belongings have been taken to your room and I have arranged for someone to assist you in unpacking and organizing, and to also explain your new Ouran schedule in detail," the director explained, looking more like a kindly father than an intimidating director of a prestigious school. "My son has also offered to show you to your room; you'll find he has quite the liking for persons as sweet as yourself."

"Oh no, sir, I could never expect the son of the director to show me to my room like a…a servant!" interjected Katja, forgetting all manner and waving her hands. "That's quite-"

"Too late," said the director, displaying his own palms and smirking. Katja blanched. The director was _smirking_ at her! What kind of sick, practical joke was this? Was someone about to jump out and yell "Surprise!" before loading her a plane back to Germany? Not that she would have minded, actually….

A knock at the door caused Katja to jump, for the third time that day, and upon the director's response, it opened and a boy barely older than Katja herself stuck his blond head into the room.

"Hello, father," said the boy excitedly, entering the room fully. In truth, he was more of a young man than a boy, and when he appeared suddenly near Katja, he towered a full foot over her.

"That's Director to you!" said the director; his voice hard. The blond boy/young man flinched dramatically and Katja realized, rather lamely, that not only had the director's son addressed his father first in English, but the director had responded back, however rudely, in English. Maybe the language really wouldn't be a problem... "Katja, may I introduce my son, Ta-"

"Tamaki Suou, my princess, but you may call me whatever pleases you most," interrupted the blond, and he was suddenly on one knee, her hand intertwined with his own, purple eyes staring up at her imploringly. He lifted her hand to his lips, barely brushing the skin, and Katja wasn't sure what she felt like doing, but it was down to either laughing hysterically, bursting into tears, or puking violently into the nearest trash bin.

"My son is one of the students who will be teaching you to behave as a young woman is expected to behave here at Ouran," continued the director, as if nothing about the scene before him was strange. "Suou, I have spoken to you previously about-"

"Goldsmith Katja!" Tamaki cut in once more, standing abruptly and pulling Katja towards him, his hand at her back. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

"I have a feeling you'll get along just fine with Tamaki and his Host Club," the director went on, unfazed. "I expect nothing but the best from all of you."  
Katja had a not-so-incorrect feeling that this wouldn't be the case. If the rest of this Host Club were going to be like the director's son, she would have gladly accepted the whole thing as a practical prank. Tamaki Suou was overly flamboyant, excessively flirtatious, undeniably handsome, and also, extremely camp. It was almost as though he was…

"Half French," said the director. "My son grew up in France with his mother. There couldn't be a better person for you to be acquainted with, miss Goldsmith."

Katja smiled grimly as Tamaki pushed a strand of tawny hair from her cheek, his face that of an angel.

She could beg to differ.

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	2. Lost In Translation

**(A/N)** WHY YOU DO DIS TO ME, HATORI-SENSEI? _WHY._

_

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_

_You were a boy, I was a girl  
Sixteen and bored._

_What else was there to do?  
_

_

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_

Lost In Translation

_A loud buzzing sound, like a group of hyperactive bumblebees, had been filling the room for over ten minutes. It reverberated back across the cathedral ceiling, bouncing to and fro over the assortment of fine furniture, of which included a leather- tooled writing desk, a shining black piano with polished ivory keys, and an expansive wardrobe that may have rivaled that of the Queen of England. After the irritating noise's cultivation of the room, it ended its journey by entering Katja's already sensitive ear canal, at twice the volume._

_Katja yanked the fluffy comforter back from her face and scowled at the cream colored ceiling. It was apparent that going back to sleep was not an option. Turning onto her side, she smacked the alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed with such force that the thing had either been stunned into silence, or she had broken it. Katja rather hoped that it was the latter._

_Grumbling, she slid her feet out from under the warm blankets and dangled them over the edge of the bed, the tips of her toes brushing over the elegantly embroidered rug covering the floor. When Katja had first been told that she would have a room to herself, she had expected something slightly less…well, European. She couldn't have said what she had expected to see, but the large brass bed overflowing with down coverings and pillows had surprised her, but the assistant who had rescued her from Tamaki's grip hadn't seemed fazed in the slightest._

_The woman had been nice even if talkative, and she had unpacked most of Katja's clothes for her, piling them within the wardrobe on hangers or in drawers. She had also taken the time to explain, as the director had said, her overly complex Ouran schedule, which had taken a ridiculously amount of time because Katja hadn't been able to keep from nodding off. As soon as the woman had left, Katja had scrambled into her pajamas and collapsed, half dead from jetlag, onto the bed. Although she still wasn't feeling her normal self, at least she had been able to sleep off her migraine._

_Katja yawned widely and rubbed her eyes, peering through her fingers at the alarm clock she couldn't remember setting, which had so rudely awoken her. The gilded hands indicated that it was six in the morning, and that she had two hours to get her butt ready for her first day of class. Getting to her feet and slouching across the room towards the washroom the assistant had pointed out, Katja could tell that she had a long, long, long day ahead of her._

_Not only because of the culture shock and variety of classes that sounded far beyond her level of intelligence, but because at the end of the day, she was expected to have her first meeting with the people who were supposedly going to teach her to behave as a "proper lady." And whatever that possibly might entail, Katja didn't want to know. Especially when Tamaki Susou ran the group._

_He really wasn't that bad of a person, reasoned Katja as she stood under the showerhead and scrubbed at her skin with a loofah. Tamaki was just…French, and she couldn't exactly blame him for that. Besides, he had seemed genuinely interested in her background and lifestyle, something which, whether it had been acting or not, had made Katja rather happy. Talking about her home had made it seem slightly less far away._

_She finished her shower quickly, toweling off before slipping across the stone floor, slick with moisture. Katja pulled on the clothes she had arranged in a pile on the marble counter next to the sink and had just begun squeezing the water from her curling tresses when she heard a soft tapping sound. Opening the bathroom door and poking her head out, Katja deduced that there was someone standing outside the bedroom, knocking on the door. Slightly surprised that there would be anyone calling on her this early in the morning, Katja went to answer her visitor with an air of curiosity. She opened the door an inch, and upon lowering her eye to the slit, found herself staring back into an outrageously violet one._

_"Sweet morning, princess!"_

_Katja jumped as if she had been burned and hastily stepped away from the door, knocking into the chair at the writing desk behind her. Tripping backwards onto the seat, she tumbled over the side to land on her back on the floor, legs still caught on the conveniently placed chair. A cruel voice in the back of her mind chose that exact moment to remind her of her vow to attempt and act less clumsy._

_"My God, are you alright?" asked Tamaki, sounding stricken as his face appeared above hers, leaning over the chair. He grabbed both of her hands and pulled her upwards, folding her protectively into his arms once he was satisfied that she wasn't bleeding. Katja was once again tempted to laugh, but she felt that his concern was real, and he truthfully had scared the crap out of her._

_"Princess Katja," Tamaki breathed into her wet hair. "Are you alright?"_

_She pushed her hands against his shoulder and he withdrew slightly, his eyes searching her face intently. "I didn't hit my head, so I think I'm fine. Although, I don't see why you had to scare me half to death at six in the morning."_

_"Don't be silly, dearest, it's seven."_

_Tamaki helped her to her feet, but his expression was still one of worry, making Katja feel extremely guilty for her obvious lack of grace. "Really, Tamaki, I'm-"_

_"Ah!" gasped Tamaki suddenly, holding his hands over his mouth and Katja nearly tripped again in surprise. "Not 'Tamaki-senpai,' just...Tamaki? Does…does this mean I'm in the buddy category of your heart?"_

_Not sure of what to say, or even what he was talking about, Katja replied with what she assumed he wanted to hear. "Uh, yes…?" she said, uncertainly. Tamaki's face lit up, and he pulled her into a rib-cracking hug, leaving Katja to splutter helplessly for oxygen._

_"Oh sweet Katja, be nothing like Haruhi! Don't be stubborn, be the girl that you were born…but you are wonderful, kind, and beautiful as she is! Maybe you'll even be able to knock some sense into her – oh, that would be marvelous! I can see it now, my two lovely daughters, you'll be so adorable together!"_

_While Tamaki continued his sparkly-eyed tirade, Katja strained feebly against his hold, her face turning a delicate shade of blue. "Tamaki – air…help, can't breathe…."_

_"Wha…oh, my, I'm terribly sorry!" he said, finally releasing her and allowing Katja to cough as the air rushed back into her lungs. "Perhaps I got cared away."_

_"Perhaps," Katja spluttered, hitting herself in the chest with the back of her hand. Once the color had returned to her face and the oxygen to her brain, she was able to look up at Tamaki as she would have had it been a normal encounter, and not an intrusion into her personal space. He looked more or less the same as the last time she had seen him; his face was flawless, blond hair tousled as though he had just climbed out of bed, although he pulled it off quite well, and he was wearing a fitted blue blazer emblazoned with the Ouran crest._

_"Uniforms,"she observed mentally, wondering why someone hadn't mentioned this to her earlier. But it appeared that Tamaki was thinking the same thing, because his gaze moved up and down her person, his brow pinched, and he circled about her, poking her several times in the side to make her stand straighter._

_"Why're you dressed like a man?" he asked, pausing in front of her and giving her a look of deepest disappointment. "Is it so much to ask for a daughter who doesn't shame her looks?"_

_Katja frowned and looked down at herself. She couldn't see anything unusual about what she was wearing; there wasn't anything exotic or overly masculine about a white turtleneck under a black vest paired with slim pants. She had even bothered to put on jewelry, and she pointed to the beaded necklace at her throat as a testament to her trouble._

_"My clothes are perfectly fashionable," replied Katja indignantly as she folded her arms over her chest. "This vest is Armani."_

_"That's irrelevant to the matter at hand."_

_"There is no 'matter at hand', and I'm not changing my clothes!" she snapped abruptly. Katja Goldsmith wasn't a morning person to begin with, but this was a bit too much. "Why're you even in here? I'm not finished yet, Tamaki – so get out!"_

_"I just came to make sure that you had a comfortable night and to perhaps walk you to your class," Tamaki replied innocently, his young face hopeful. Katja felt the anger dissipate within her and wondered how she was going to possibly deal with this person if all it took was a pair of shining eyes to bend her to his will._

_"Oh fine," she huffed, and Tamaki brightened instantaneously. "I wouldn't mind if you helped me find my class, seeing as how I have absolutely no idea where I'm going. Just…let me finish here, and then I'm all yours."_

_It appeared that Tamaki liked the sound of that._

_"And Tamaki, are you always like this?"_

_He seemed to not have understood her question. "Like what?"_

_"So..." Katja struggled to find a word that wouldn't sound as offensive as the ones currently floating through her mind, "…overtly nice."_

_"Well of course I'm nice. You're my daughter, aren't you?"_

_Katja was considering asking him why he kept referring to her as his 'daughter', when she decided that it was hardly a good idea, and that she would probably hear the explanation later, whether she liked it or not. So instead, she settled for a nod (at least it would shut him up, for the time being anyway) and turned back towards the washroom after assuring Tamaki that she would indeed be right back and wasn't about to crawl out the window._

_Standing in front of the wide mirror over the sink, Katja assessed the damage done to her hair by Tamaki's assault, which had dried itself into umber curls. There was no time to fix the problem, however, as straightening the mess with a flat iron would take over an hour, whereas she only had forty five minutes, all of which she needed to devote to navigating the monster of a school. Considering this, Katja dragged a comb through her tresses and brushed her teeth at top speeds, even sparing a moment to slap on some mascara and blush (hey, it was her first day) before scooting out of the washroom and grabbing a notebook from the writing desk. She jammed a pen into the plastic spiral as she grabbed Tamaki, who was perched casually on her bed, and half dragged him from the room, kicking the door closed behind him._

_"In a rush?" he asked Katja, who was busy flicking strands of hair from her eyes, raising his perfectly shaped eyebrows at her. She smiled benevolently at him and allowed him to loop his arm with hers._

_"What makes you say that?"_

_As Tamaki led Katja through a maze of hallways, she realized that she had just been cheeky with the director of Ouran High School's son, and she felt hardly fazed. Even the aura of the place was beginning to rub off on her; it was so exceedingly bizarre that it made everything she did feel normal. Maybe that was how people survived at places like Ouran…._

_They passed what felt like a million different doors, but every place they walked was surprisingly empty. Katja was feeling slightly anxious; she wanted to see what the other students at Ouran were like. How they looked, how they dressed, and how they interacted with each other, these were all things she needed to know. She wasn't in Germany anymore; this was Japan, for God's sake! It might has well have been Mars for all the good it was doing Katja._

_"So what are you looking forwards to doing here at Ouran?" asked Tamaki after some time. Katja glanced up at him, unsure of if she had heard him correctly. Had he just asked a semi-normal question?_

_"Could you repeat that please? I was counting doors."_

_"I asked you what you are looking forwards to doing here," he repeated patiently, giving her a kind smile. Had Katja been in his position, she probably would have told herself to stop being such a useless stump and listen once in a while._

_"I'm sorry, I hadn't thought much about that," she replied honestly, still slightly surprised by his question. "But now that I do think about it, I am rather excited to see the music I'll be playing at this festival. There isn't anything that I enjoy more than a challenging new piece."_

_Tamaki nodded, as if he understood how she felt. "You really do like music, then?"_

_"Of course, I love it. Do you play an instrument, Tamaki?" she added curiously as an afterthought. He nodded, unintentionally shaking blond hair into his eyes._

_"The piano. My mother taught me to play as a child."_

_"That's fantastic, I didn't know!" Katja said, truly interested now. "I should like to hear you play sometime."_

_Tamaki beamed down at her as if she had just said something truly flattering, which left Katja utterly baffled. "I should like to play for you sometime."_

_Their conversation was interrupted, however, by the tumultuous sound of a large number of teenagers chattering. Apparently they had reached the section of Ouran where the actual school was located, and Katja silently cursed herself for not having paid attention when Tamaki had been guiding her through the labyrinth of corridors and passages. But her thoughts were quickly placed elsewhere as Tamaki glided smoothly around a corner, bringing Katja awkwardly beside him, into a wide hallway that was filled with Ouran students._

_Katja couldn't help the hand that tightened on Tamaki's arm as they made they way through the sea of people. Her head twisted this way and that, her eyes taking in the view of her new classmates with a feverish hunger. She had been correct about the uniforms, but also correct in the sense that her not possessing one of the voluminous cream colored dresses that all the girls seemed to be wearing made her stick out like a sore thumb. All the boys were clad in blazers identical to Tamaki's, and Katja wondered how they would get by recognizing one another when their clothes were all identical._

_She was far too busy observing the students around her to notice that Tamaki had come to a halt, and she continued to walk, her arm untangling from his. Upon realizing this moments later, she stopped dead and turned slowly, a horrified look on her face, but Tamaki was still only feet behind her. He gestured to his right, and Katja turned her gaze in the direction he was pointing, towards a door that students were periodically entering and exiting. She took a quick step closer to him, narrowly avoiding colliding with a brunette, who she dodged unskillfully._

_"This is awful," Katja said, feeling thoroughly embarrassed now. "How am I supposed to manage an entire day when I can barely walk a hall without someone holding my hand like a kid in a grocery store?"_

_He smiled at her again; placing his hands on her shoulders, and making her feel extraordinarily like she had as a child on her very first day of kindergarten. It was certainly not a comforting sensation._

_"You've got a decent noggin, my sweet daughter Katja," said Tamaki, tapping the side of her head with a finger. "Use it."_

_And with that, he vanished from view like a phantom, and Katja scanned the crowd to see the top of a blond head, heading in the opposite direction. She didn't move immediately, still reeling from the whole 'daughter' thing, but after noticing that she was attracting quite a few strange looks from the people around her, slipped into the room Tamaki had pointed out. The one she could only assume from looking at her schedule was freshmen homeroom._

_The classroom was about a quarter of the way filled, the students scattered throughout, most of them sitting in desks near friends and talking. Katja made a beeline for the back of the room, heading straight for a desk in the last row on the very end. As she sat down in the chair, she thought grumpily about how this was stereotypical behavior of a nerd with acne and no friends. And although she didn't want to be mistaken as such (honestly who would), there was no way she was going to sit in the front row, perky and chipper, like…like…_

_"Like the teacher's pet," she finished for herself, settling her chin into her hand. "I wonder, though, do they even have those stereotypes here? I'm taking no chances; geeky nerd is better than a suck up."_

_Minutes slipped by without event and Katja remained in her desk, completely bored. The novelty of watching the other student had worn off, and she had already deducted just by observing them that there different groups of rich kids, which she categorized with the following: the richy-rich type were the ones who enjoyed flaunting his or her snobbish attitude, the normal type were the students who were obviously wealthy but had the decency not to act as though they were, and the outcast type were the rest who didn't fit into the other two groups, meaning that these students were the ones who had apparently become so tired of their lifestyle that they displayed no characteristics at all. Katja supposed she would have put herself in with the normal types, considering that her personality was most like the ones displayed there, but then again, she wasn't extremely wealthy like them either, so she could have gone to the outcast group. Maybe if there was a semi-normal slash outcast slash foreigner slash musical protégée group…._

_Man, she was bored._

_Peering up at the clock tacked to the front wall, Katja noted that it was five minutes to eight. Had she really only been sitting there for fifteen minutes? It had felt like much longer. Moving her gaze downwards, her eyes traveled across the chalkboard to where there were various things written, all in Japanese characters. Which, of course, did her no good whatsoever._

_That's when something hit Katja that she hadn't thought about before. Even if the students didn't know or care that she was attending Ouran as a foreign exchange student, the teachers certainly would. Therefore, wouldn't they be expecting her to comprehend some knowledge of Japanese? Or did they already know the real purpose of her presence? Katja prayed that the latter of the two situations was true. There really wasn't room for more embarrassment on the menu for her today._

_Sighing with sheer boredom, Katja flipped open her notebook and uncapped the pen in the spiral, doodling unproductively over the paper and writing her name in various ways, page after page. She was on her sixth side when a series of chimes sounded, causing her hand to jerk and create a thick line across the clean sheet. At the large number of students filing through the door, Katja assumed that the chimes were Ouran's substitute for a school bell. She rolled her eyes under her eyes lids and continued scribbling, looking up again only when the woman who appeared to be the supervisor came bustling in, speaking loudly to the students in Japanese._

_Figuring it was probably a good idea to at least attempt to understand some of what the teacher was saying, Katja closed her notebook and stared at the woman talking. She was tall, middle aged, and a curtain of black hair streaked with gray cascaded down her back. Looking around again, Katja noticed that the students did not seem to be taking very much interest in what the teacher was saying. Most of them were conversing quietly amongst their selection of friends, but there was a group of three students, sitting several rows towards the front of the room, who glanced back at her occasionally. Two of the students were better at making it less obvious, but the third either didn't know what he or she was doing or simply didn't care. By the way the two, who were stealthy with their looks, were leaning in towards the third, who sat in a desk between them, made Katja wonder if they were talking about her. But she couldn't exactly see why they would be talking about her, except maybe because that her clothes were more suited for a man, or so according to Tamaki._

_Katja didn't have long to dwell on the matter; because a moment later, she heard her name among the foreign Japanese the teacher was speaking. She gestured back towards Katja's corner, and the students all swiveled in their seats to glance carelessly at her, including the whispering group of three. Unsure of what to do, Katja raised her hand and gave an awkward wave, looking carefully anywhere but at the faces of her classmates._

_The teacher caught her gaze and gave her a knowing little grin, and Katja could hardly resist shouting as the students slowly returned to their conversations. She knew. The teacher knew, and yet there she was chattering away in Japanese about the one person whom she knew wouldn't understand. Katja could feel her face burning pink with anger. So the teachers would know, but it appeared as though they wouldn't be doing her any favors. Perhaps it had been an order from the director; if the other students knew she was an exchange, then wouldn't they expect her to know Japanese? If what…_

_Katja gripped the sides of her head with both hands. She wasn't going to get anything but another headache with her useless, never ending train of thought. She was just going to have to try and survive the day, and then as soon as classes were over, go and see the director to get some of her questions answers. She at least deserved that much, considering that she could tarnish the school's reputation if she told why she had been weaseled into Ouran. But then again, she doubted that something a foreigner said would ever be taken for much credit, assuming anyone actually bothered to listen to her. They would most likely just think that she was trying for attention._

_But she couldn't see the director right after classes, could she? No, Katja remembered with an almighty lurch of her stomach, she had to attend that…Host Club thing. Katja gave a groan and closed her eyes, hands still cradling her head. She had really gotten herself into a fix this time. One time, just one time in her life, Katja wished that something would come without a catch._

_The sounding of chimes caused Katja to jerk her head upwards and open her eyes, to see the rest of the students hurrying quickly from the room. Wondering how much time she had to find her next class, Katja rose from her seat and extracted her schedule from a pocket, which was thankfully printed in both English and German. She was too busy contemplating where room 234AB could possibly be, as she strolled from the homeroom, that she did not notice the two figures sidling up on either side of her under she felt the arms around her shoulders._

_"So you're Goldsmith Katja?" said a voice very close to her ear, in the accented English she was becoming accustomed to hearing. Katja whipped her head around to find a handsome face framed by locks of red hair, resting on her shoulder._

_"I pictured you slightly differently," another voice said in her other ear, and Katja's neck turned in the opposite direction, only to find a face identical to one she had just seen, smirking down at her. "I thought Europeans were supposed to be pretty, not boyish."_

_"At least she doesn't have a flat chest, like Haruhi."_

_"Hey!" Katja finally managed to say indignantly, skidding to a halt. She glared up at the two faces at either side of her, pulling sharply on her arms as she became aware of the hands wrapping around them. Opening her mouth with curses tingling on her tongue, she was interrupted by the sound of pounding feet from behind her, and the two (obviously twin) boys glanced mildly over her shoulder._

_"Kaoru, Hikaru," panted a feminine tone, "what're you two doing to the girl? I thought we agreed to leave her alone until later."_

_"The most insincere of apologies, Haruhi-chan," said the twin on her left. "But she just looked so blissfully idiotic that Kaoru and I couldn't help ourselves."_

_The twin on her right looked to his brother with an expression of confusion. "You're not Hikaru, I am."_

_"No you're not, we decided that this morning, remember?"_

_"Oh yeah."_

_"Sorry to be, uh, rude and everything," piped up Katja, feeling extremely puzzled now, "but who are you people?"_

_"The Hitachiin twins," replied the supposed Kaoru on her right. "Kaoru and Hikaru, but don't worry about which one of us is which, because you'll never remember."_

_"And this here," continued the also supposed Hikaru, releasing her arm and reaching for something behind her back, "is Fujioka Haruhi." He pulled the girl forwards and she swatted his hands away as Katja shook off Kaoru, who didn't seem to mind. When Katja was finally able to look back at Haruhi, she found herself staring into the largest set of eyes she had ever seen. Her face was unmistakably that of a female, but her hair was cropped short, just barely brushing over her ears, and she wore one of the Ouran blue blazers that Katja had seen only boys wearing._

_She opened her mouth, and then deciding that it would sound offensive to ask what Fujioka Haruhi was trying to pull, because she most certainly did not look like a boy, closed it again. But it was as though Haruhi had read Katja's mind, because she laughed good-naturedly and extended her slim hand, which Katja shook, feeling relieved._

_"Sorry if these two surprised you," began Haruhi, ignoring the exaggerated pouts from the Hitachiins. "We had originally agreed to hold off on bothering you until this afternoon, but I don't know why I believed that would actually happen. These boys are not to be trusted."_

_"Could I be correct in assuming, then," Katja said slightly sardonically, catching on, "that you three are members of-"_

_"The Host Club, yes," they finished for her in unison. "And it just so happens that we have a little proposition for you, oh new pupil of ours," added Hikaru with another sly smile that Katja didn't like. "Since we, the Host Club, are doing the director a favor and dealing with you, we know all about your little predicament. The teachers have a strict policy about conducting classes in Japanese so-"_

_"Don't be expecting any breaks," interrupted Kaoru smoothly, waving his hand casually. Hikaru and Haruhi both nodded in confirmation. "But through various connections and the like, Hikaru and I have been able to switch our schedules around to match yours. We even got Haruhi in on it, just so she wouldn't maul us in our sleep."_

_"Meaning," Hikaru continued, "that we're willing to assist you with translations if you're willing to do two things, one for us and another for the Club."_

_"Depends," said Katja, even though she knew no matter what the price, she would have to accept. "What am I being committed to?"_

_"Wait, wait, wait," cut in Haruhi, waving a hand in the faces of both Hikaru and Kaoru, "don't tell me that Kyouya-senpai had something to do with this?"_

_"Well it sure as hell wasn't Tamaki," muttered Hikaru out of the corner of his mouth. "The club benefit was his idea, but we added in our own."_

_"You two are completely–"_

_"Our musical composition work," said Kaoru abruptly, finally answering Katja's question. "You're the musical genius so that shouldn't be a problem, should it."_

_"Since when do we have a musical composition class?"_

_"She had it on her schedule and we had to switch a class to make it work."_

_"She has a name, thank you," Katja murmured, only to find herself ignored. Haruhi turned to the twins, her eyebrows raised questioningly._

_"What class did you switch it with, Hikaru?"_

_"Advanced physics."_

_"You jerk! That was my favorite–"_

_"Done," said Katja firmly, sticking out her hand, which Kaoru shook with a slight smirk on his face. Katja matched his expression with her own cold gaze, squeezing his hand a bit harder than she should have. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not that some of the other members of the Host Club weren't as…Tamaki-ish as Tamaki was. The whole thing was almost laughable, and Katja found herself comparing the situation to something she had seen in a sitcom once. There were always certain types of character identities, in movies, in television programs, you name it; an idiot, the one with the brains, a cute face, a 'silent but deadly' type, the tricksters, and of course, the voice of reason. Well, she had already met the idiot (because as sweet as Tamaki was, Katja couldn't deny that he was an idiot), now the tricksters, and who she sensed was the voice of reason._

_Katja grew increasingly grateful of Haruhi's presence and source of sanity throughout the course of the day; it seemed that Hikaru and Kaoru were filled with nothing but scathing comments and twin-related humor. Despite this, however, Katja discovered that the twins were both incredibly funny, and whether they were flicking paper footballs at the back of people's heads or poking fun at Haruhi or herself, Katja couldn't contain the occasional snort of laughter that escaped her every so often._

_But the two brothers were true to their word, and helped her decode the Japanese characters in the books and papers she was given by her instructors, who merely smiled knowingly at the four, saying nothing when the redheads and brunette all leaned over Katja's desk and began consoling the lost foreigner quietly. As soon as she understood her objectives, she dove into the work, scribbling furiously across her papers, not talking unless it was to whisper a question to Haruhi. Katja finished her assignments with speed, and the Hitachiins assumed her to be on par with their own toy's outstanding grades. Just another obscenely smart person they had to deal with…._

_"I'm lost," said Hikaru finally, flipping his notebook closed and looking towards Katja, who was bent low over the staff paper in her lap, the ends of her curled hair swaying as she drew circles, dots, and other figures across the lines. "Oi, Germany, c'mere and help me with this."_

_"This really isn't difficult, Hikaru," said Haruhi from her position in the chair next to his. Her hand was flying across her paper, and she glanced occasionally down at the copy of Mozart's String Quartet Number 19 in C Major lying across her knee for reference. "It's only copying the key and notes."_

_"All these different lines are giving me a headache," added Kaoru, dropping his pencil onto the floor and rubbing his temples with a slight frown. The pencil rolled across the floor and bumped Katja's white boot clad foot, and she reached down, picking it up to tuck behind her ear. "Don't patronize, Haruhi – it's not our fault that you're a brainaic."_

_"I wasn't doing anything of the sort, I was simply stating the facts."_

_The twins both turned towards Katja again, who peered up at them blankly through her hair. "Alright, Germany, throw us a bone. It's not like you have a choice anyway."_

_"Fine, fine," replied Katja uncaringly, straightening her back with a satisfying crack that made Haruhi cringe. "Come over here and I'll help you both."_

_There was a loud sound scraping sound as the twins scooted their chairs to either side of Katja, each snatching up one of the papers on her lap. Hikaru held the paper she had been writing on up to the light before handing it to Kaoru, who looked it over carefully before handing to back to a mildly puzzled Katja, who accepted it and slid the pencil from behind her ear and offered it to Kaoru._

_"Is my composition counterfeit?" she asked with raised eyebrows after indicating that they should open their notebooks again. Kaoru shrugged as he brought the piece he was supposed to be rewriting to the top of his pile, and Hikaru nudged Katja in the ribs with his elbow none too gently._

_"Just making sure that it wasn't a naughty note you were working so diligently on over here," he said with the sly grin that all too often creased his face. "You weren't, were you?"_

_Katja snickered and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. "Honestly, where in the world do you two come up with this shit?"_

_"We've learned from experience."_

_"Well save the stories for later," she scolded, tapping Hikaru's and then Kaoru's nose with the end of her own pencil. "This may be a bargain, but I'm not letting you walk away without learning something._

_

* * *

_

_The remainder of the hour passed quickly, and Katja was pleased with her success in having the Hitachiin twins recite the names of the lines and spaces of a treble, tenor, and bass clef from memory. Although the brothers were lazy, by no degree were they stupid, and Katja was learning this in a multitude of ways. Her reflection on their intelligence was ironic, because at that moment, the two redheads in question were steering her down halls she did not recognize, all the while keeping her distracted with questions about J.S. Bach._

_Obsessive types were a cinch to manipulate._

_"Is that so?" said Hikaru while he guided Katja along by her left elbow, his face conveying that his life depended on the answer to his question. "Opening styles from…where again did you say?"_

_"Italy," replied Katja breathlessly, nodding fervently. "After Italian works became more accessible to him in the Weimar court orchestra, the openings of his pieces seemed to have taken after those dramatic ones of the Italians."_

_"Have you ever been to Italy, Katja?" asked Kaoru from her right, his hand also on her forearm, which was holding her new books tight to her chest. Haruhi was jogging along behind them, glaring at the backs of the their heads. They had their host faces on, and there was no going back now that they had started. "I've heard it's the most beautiful place."_

_"Yeah, I've been there," Katja answered, her eyes still bright, but her voice had lost the excited tone from before. "The history is most interesting – and Roma is wonderful. But why the sudden interest…and where are we going?"_

_"Oh, well, we thought we'd show you this brand new set of cellos the music department just purchased," replied Kaoru, shrugging. "But if you don't wan to–"_

_"New…cellos?" Katja looked as thought she was about to faint. "D-don't be silly, Kaoru, tell me where they are!" She leaned forwards and grabbed the lapels of his blazer, her face close to his. "Right. Now."_

_"If you're that desperate, then I suppose we could tell you…."_

_"Yes, yes, I'm that desperate! Come on, Hitachiin, please?"_

_"Down the hall to the right, music practice room number three," he replied swiftly and Katja released his shirt. "On the left side, you can't miss it."_

_With that, she took off running like a woman possessed in the direction Kaoru had pointed out, barely keeping her grip on her school books. Apparently, she had forgotten the wise advice Haruhi had given her earlier that day: never, under any circumstances, trust the Hitachiin twins. The three host members watched her go, skidding around the corner and then barreling off again, and Hikaru couldn't help but laugh._

_"That was cruel," said Haruhi quietly in Japanese. "We'd better follow her, Lord knows what could happen if we don't."_

_"It's not like you didn't tell her not to trust either of us," Kaoru responded, poking himself in the chest with his thumb and then gesturing to his brother. "She took her fate into her own hands."_

_"Besides, we had to get Germany in there somehow," added Hikaru as they started off down the familiar hallway towards the familiar corner and a familiar unused music room. "You knew there was no way we were going to get her in there unless we forced her."_

_"Or tricked her."_

_"This was just easier," he shrugged. "Use your knowledge to your advantage, as I always say."_

_Haruhi gave the redhead a blank look. "You never say that."_

_"But I always act on it."_

_

* * *

_

**(A/N)** I want to use the word 'camp' some more. Maybe in the next chapter.


	3. In Other Words

**(A/N) **Thank you oh-so-very kindly to all the people who reviewed and offered your awesome compliments, which I totally don't deserve but love anyway.

* * *

_Listening to what you say,  
Even though I look the other way_

_You could never understand the feeling._

* * *

In Other Words

It took Katja all of four seconds to realize she had been tricked.

Three of those four seconds had been devoted to observing that there were definitely _no_cellos in the third music room of Ouran High School – in fact, there was nothing in that room which even remotely resembled a musical instrument. After bursting through the double doors, Katja had stood framed on the threshold, staring with a deadpan expression at one face she knew all too well, and three that she did not.

Another second, and she knew just where she had been led.

Without saying a word to the blond standing with an obscenely large grin on his face, arms wide, Katja pivoted on her foot to stalk back down the hall, nearly bumping into the innocent brunette and sly twins who had arrived just behind her. Without a moment to spare, she raised both her hands and swung her open palms across the perfect cheeks of Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin with a satisfying _smack_. The redheads reeled and even Haruhi staggered back from sheer surprise, sounds of equal shock issuing from the door of the third music room. Katja had a feeling that no one, not a mother nor a father, had ever shown the Hitachiin twins a bit of discipline.

"That was for lying to me," she said in a low voice as the brothers frowned down at her, both rubbing the raw patches on their faces. But if the slap that Katja had administered had been surprising, what she did next must have been downright dumbfounding. Taking a small step forward and standing on tiptoe, Katja brushed a light kiss across the spot she had just struck, on Hikaru and then Kaoru.

"And that was for helping me."

Impressed by her own show of boldness, Katja turned away from the baffled twins and wide eyed Haruhi, and strolled back into the third music room, although she found it slightly insulting that it was referred to as a_music room_. Tamaki had fixed her with a gaze electric with fury, and while she put out her hand for him to shake, he merely glowered at her before sulking away in the opposite direction, muttering something to himself that sounded vaguely like, "And what thanks do I get?"

"Don't mind him," said one of the unfamiliar young men, rising from a chair and coming to take Kajta's still outstretched hand, lifting it to his lips and barely making Katja blink; it worried her that she was already used to this. He had perfectly cropped black hair and wire rimmed glasses that only enhanced the intellectual look of his slim face. It was clear to Katja that if Tamaki was the heart of the Host Club, than this man was the brain and the backbone. While a pretty face was always good to look at, an operation such as this one needed a steady hand to guide it through infancy and onto adulthood (even if Ootori Kyouya had both a steady hand _and_ a pretty face).

"Oh, I wasn't going to," replied Katja, just loud enough so that Tamaki, who was crouched over himself in a corner, could hear and give her a glare. She waggled her fingers at him, and he whipped away quickly, muttering irately again. "Although it's probably best not to bait him, then?"

"He'll get over it," Kyouya said, as though he had repeated that very line a million times before. "Tamaki-san recovers quickly. A bit too quickly, one might say…."

"Yeah, Tamaki-senpai's had enough practice with Haruhi," said either Hikaru or Kaoru, Katja couldn't tell which, sidling over with the masquerading girl in tow. He draped his arm over her shoulder and leaned in laziness, nearly knocking her over in the process. "We've been sure to give it to him."

After the unnecessary exchanging of names (at least, for Katja that is) and further handshakes was made, Katja found herself being led by various arms towards one of the many high backed sofas that littered the one-time music room. The coffee table was piled high with glazed teacups and saucers, little cakes and other sweets perched precariously on edges of porcelain. Seating herself uncertainly on the green velvet, Katja was soon sandwiched between the Hitachiins, who amused themselves with pressing their elbows into her sides just to see her grimace, while Katja wished that Haruhi would please, _please_, rescue her.

Apparently they recovered quickly….

"Hikaru, Kaoru, you're going to kill her," said Kyouya absentmindedly from across the table, on the sofa facing them. "What good would she do us then?"

"And what good am I to you alive, exactly?" Katja said through gritted teeth, using her own elbows and digging unmercifully into the sides of the twins, who sprung away quickly, retreating to the other side of the sofa to cling to a rather disgruntled looking Haruhi. Kyouya raised an eyebrow and turned to the two brothers, peering over his glasses.

"I thought you two were going to tell her."

Hikaru and Kaoru glanced at each other. "We did."

"No you didn't!" accused Katja, pointing a finger savagely. "You only said what you–"

"Oh Katja, you silly girl, how could you forget?" said Kaoru hastily, springing forwards and covering her mouth with his hand. Katja glared at him over the top of his fingers, but Kaoru only gave her an imploring look, clearly missing the warning. She was on the verge of sinking her teeth in his skin when they were interrupted by a head capped with golden hair, appearing over the back of the sofa in the space between their faces, blinking sleepily at the group.

"Kyou-kun," murmured the boy, rubbing his eyes, "I thought you said you would wait until I w-woke up. I wanted to m-meet her…."

"My apologies, Hunny-san, but she arrived quite unexpectedly," replied Kyouya, shooting another look at the Hitachiins. "Haruhi, Kaoru, and Hikaru were kind enough to bring her here."

"She's here now?" gasped the boy, his eyes snapping open. "Wher–"

The golden boy's gaze fell immediately upon Katja, who stared back in surprise, forgetting all about the hand still on her face. But in an instant, the boy had leaped over the sofa with an arc height quite impressive for a person with the statue of an eight year old, and Kaoru had drawn back quickly. He landed in Katja's lap; wrapping his arms around her middle and squeezing with a force that Katja could have sworn made her eyes protrude from their sockets.

"Na, Kat-chan, you're so European – they make the best chocolate torte there!" the boy squealed, smiling innocently up at her with his fresh face. He buried his face in her shirt and inhaled deeply. "Your shirt smells like Germany!"

"Really?" said Katja, hooking a finger in the collar of her turtleneck and pulling it up to her nose thoughtfully. She could have melted from the sheer adorable look the boy was giving her; honestly, who could resist those shining eyes? "It just smells like laundry soap to me."

"Haninozuka Mitsukuni," said Kyouya from the other sofa, reading her mind, not bothering to look up from the notebook he was writing in. "Resident sweets expert, seventeen, senior."

"Mitsukuni," said a deep voice, and Katja swiveled her head to see a tall, serious looking young man towering over her and the boy perched on her legs. "You left this." He set a plush rabbit on Katja's shoulder, and Mitsukuni plucked up the toy, hugging it tight to his chest and smiling widely.

"Morinozuka Takashi," Kyouya continued, still scribbling. "Senior, quiet, serious. Cousin to Hunny-san."

Feeling sufficiently awkward, Katja nodded her understanding and ran her fingers through her hair. While she couldn't say that she hadn't been through strange situations in the past, seeing as champagne normally flowed like waterfalls at the parties of the overly wealthy she was commissioned to play for, Katja could say with certainty that her first encounter with the entire Host Club ranked up among the strangest. It wasn't everyday that she had boys older than she snuggled into the curve of her waist, occasionally forcing a forkful of too sweet cake into her mouth. It wasn't also the normal occurrence to be told that, in return for the Club's services of etiquette lessons, she would be pretending to be the new, docile, non-Japanese non-English speaking toy of the Host Club.

"You're kidding me, right?" deadpanned Katja, Mitsukuni humming happily as she ran her fingers through his tow-colored hair. "Why do I have to repay you – you're not providing me a service that I asked for."

Kyouya set his teacup down on his knee, regarding her carelessly over the top of his glasses. "The director agrees with me, and he believes that it would be a good way for you to see how etiquette is applied with people of different backgrounds and personalities. And also, as I understand it, you already committed yourself when you made the bargain with Kaoru and Hikaru."

At the little smirk Kyouya gave her, Katja had to resist the strong urge to smack herself across the face. How could she have been so _stupid_? She could clearly remember what Hikaru had said: they would assist her with Japanese translations on the condition that she did something for them _and_ for the Club. Katja hadn't even bothered to ask the twins what she was going to be expected to do for the Host Club if she agreed, and they, of course, hadn't reminded her. Because either way, she didn't have a choice.

"Alright, fine," she huffed, defeated. "What exactly will this require me to do?"

"Like I said," replied Kyouya patiently, sipping his tea again, "our agreement does not entail anything you will not be able to do. In our devoting of time to teaching you, we will be taking that time away from our customers, which means lost capital and lost business. Your presence here will more than compensate for that."

While Kyouya sounded confident, Katja had her doubts. "What, girls will actually pay to come and sit with a host and a foreigner who understands English, but not Japanese, and speaks neither? That sounds far fetched to me."

"Oh they certainly will," he replied with a slight nod of his head, a ray of sunlight catching on the lens of his glasses and rending his gaze invisible. "It's also not as uncommon as you think to meet someone who is able to comprehend conversation in a language, but is unable to speak it. Watch. Hunny-san," said Kyouya, addressing the boy who was nibbling a strawberry under Katja's hand, his eyes closed. "Repeat what I say in English: _de landbouwer kweekt aardapples_."

"The farmer grows potatoes," recited Mitsukuni, not opening his eyes.

"Now, translate that sentence back into Dutch."

"The farmer grows potatoes."

"See, while Hunny-san may understand Dutch when he hears it, but he cannot freely speak it," continued Kyouya, smirking again at the downward angle of Katja's lips. "Your task is simple: every day, you'll be assisting a different host with their clients, and you will say nothing to anyone unless it is requested of you, and if it is, only in German. The story will be that you are a distant relative of Tamaki-san's, and are here on his good graces to learn to speak Japanese."

Katja felt her jaw go slack. She had been under the impression that Ootori Kyouya was the brains of the Host Club, but to come up with a story line like that…it just sounded like something out of a, well, a sitcom.

"No one is going to believe that."

"Our customers pay to hear what they want to be told, not the truth," shrugged Kyouya, and Katja found herself trapped by the logic. She searched frantically for something else, another flaw in the plan.

"I've been through a day of classes, and no one paid any particular interest to me then," she pointed out, removing her hand momentarily from Mitsukuni's head to brush a curl from her face, only to have the Lolita squirm until she replaced it. "Why would they pay to sit with a mute?"

"An_entire_ day? Well then you must know everything about how the mind of a teenage Japanese girl functions," Kyouya said, his sarcasm subtle, but making Katja all the more furious for it. "And of course you were noticed – you spent the day with Haruhi, Kaoru, and Hikaru. The entire appeal of your presence is that you cannot speak with the customers; you're something different, and customers will enjoy that. They'll pay a bit more, even, to see you."

Several moments passed in silence, Kyouya writing in his mysterious book and Katja staring incredulously at her feet. "Wow," she breathed finally, shaking her head and sighing heavily. "After meeting Tamaki, I can't say I knew what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this."

"I think you may be catching onto the goal of the Host Club, Katja," replied Kyouya, his pen pausing as he reached for his cup. "Always expect the unexpected."

* * *

Katja learned all too soon that the words of Ootori Kyouya were not to be taken lightly. When he had said to expect the unexpected, he had meant it, and in more ways than one. The resident host club of Ouran High School opened its well-received doors to the teeming masses at four o'clock sharp, which meant that Katja had to endure two hours of listening to instructions from Kyouya, pulling on every dress that Tamaki tossed at her, and the constant snickering of the Hitachiins, accompanied by the vain scolding of Haruhi. Not to mention the ever present pulling of a curling iron on her hair, which was welded by an eccentric girl who had appeared out of the floor on a pillar, whom everyone simply referred to as Renge (or, as in the case of Hikaru, 'otaku').

Considering this, it was fair to say that Katja was on the verge of literally ripping out her new ringlets by the time it was all over. Her umber hair had been pulled back away from her face with a velvet ribbon, and Katja was exceeding uncomfortable about the loss of warmth on her bare neck. The selection of her clothing had been decided upon by popular vote, in which her own had not been included, and so, she wore a long dress that restricted her movements, white with black racers running down the sides. Katja had noticed the Chanel tag immediately when she had put the damned thing on and, to add onto her horror at wearing a dress that was probably worth a small fortune, she was also handed a pair of Christian Louboutin platform heels to strap on before using the Hitachiins as human crutches in her elevated state.

When the clocks announced the arrival of four o'clock, the doors of the Host Club were unlocked and girls poured in, arranging themselves into a scene of elegance that Katja had never before witnessed. It was like the tea parties she had seen in movies, the ones with princes and princesses and talking animals. And the hosts…they were like Katja had never, in her brief time of knowing them, seen before. She watched, with a hint of amusement, the way the young men's faces shined when their customers talked, pretending that hearing about a tiff with one's mother had really brought tears to their eyes. The whole thing made Katja want to laugh, but she was also oddly intrigued by the display, and she had hardly to act as though she couldn't speak when Tamaki had beckoned her to his table. She had been forced to leave her comfortable spot in a chair and warm cup of plain coffee to teeter over, and seat herself with as much grace as she could manage next to the raven haired girl Tamaki was entertaining. She noticed with a mix of pride and disgust that the uniform-clad student gave her a glare as soon as she sat down.

"_Of __course, Kyouya, it'll work. What do I know; I'm just a stupid foreigner. Well, at least I have Tamaki here to save my butt from_ total _annihilation,"_ Katja thought as Tamaki explained something to the sour faced customer in Japanese. She knew she must have missed something, because when she glanced at Tamaki again (she had just caught her first glimpse of the infamous twincestous duo), he was gazing loving into the girl's eyes, his hand gently caressing her cheek. Katja had to bite her lip to keep from snickering and she quickly busied herself with filling an extra cup with tea.

"And she really speaks no Japanese?"

Katja's head shot up at once, upon hearing a sentence she finally understood. Her eyes caught on the black haired girl, who was looking directly at her, taking in her appearance as one might a pig they were considering slaughtering. Katja inclined her head slightly, her eyes still on the girl's, as if to say, "Yes, I can understand English fully, so say something about me again and I'll knock your teeth in, you little bitch."

Or at least, that's what Katja hoped it conveyed. The girl smiled, a wicked little gesture, and Katja could have sworn she saw two fangs among the white teeth. In all honestly, she did not understand why she was being treated in such a hostile manner, but she sure as the expensive clothes on her back didn't appreciate it. Tamaki must have sensed this (he had a selectively strong intuition, which was strange, for someone like him) because he settled his hand over the girl's, and her eyes softened.

"Katja-san is my cousin, and she is very dear to me," he said, his voice that of a tender lover, making Katja sit up a bit straighter in her chair. "She's a foreign exchange student here from Germany, and she is quite the musical protégée."

"Ah yes," replied the girl, taking a sip of her tea, "I know you grew up in France, Tamaki-kun. Do you miss it there?"

"I do on occasion," replied Tamaki, his eyes sparkling with tears once more. "But I could never go, for it would mean tearing myself away from you, my sweet princess."

"Oh, Tamaki-kun…."

Katja, feeling thoroughly nauseated now, looked around the rest of the room, seeking an outlet for her boredom. She caught the gaze of Haruhi, who was delivering a silver tray of sweets to the table of Takashi and Mitsukuni, who was succeeding in making a group of girls coo themselves into fits by licking the frosting from Takashi's finger. This group was quite the bunch of cads.

"Hello, Katja-san, Tamaki-senpai," greeted Haruhi, making her way towards their table, several plates balanced on her hands. "Would you be interested in some cake, Fukia-san?"

"Yes, thank you, Haruhi-kun," replied Fukia, nodding demurely as Haruhi placed the plates on the tablecloth without so much as a clink. "How are you today?"

"I'm quite well, thank you, Fukia-san, and how are you?" asked Haruhi, her eyes gentle. Katja could see why Haruhi was a popular host – even with the simple response and question, she had seemed entirely innocent and sincere. It was a quality the other hosts had, but it came naturally to the young woman, and therefore, played out most predominately. Katja doubted Haruhi ever had to act.

"Enjoying yourself?" Haruhi whispered, bending down so that neither Fukia nor Tamaki could hear her, although it seemed that they were so completely absorbed with each other, it would've have mattered if she had shouted it.

Katja turned her head, a precaution just in case someone looked their way, and murmured, "If you consider the stares suggesting I'm about to have my intestines ripped out through my navel enjoyable, then yes, I'm enjoying myself immensely."

"Jealously, of course. You have to make the customers feel as though you don't care about the host's attention, when they give it to you," Haruhi continued to whisper, turning her face away. "After you can convince her that you're not a threat, then she'll be interested in you. Trust me. Tamaki will help, he was born a host."

"So does this mean you're not going to save me?" Katja asked desperately.

"Well of course not. You're not about to give up so easily are you?" Haruhi straightened up and smiled down at her. "I'll see you later, Katja-san, Tamaki-senpai."

"Good bye, Haruhi-san!" said Tamaki, his eyes bright as he waved with one hand, the other stroking Fukia's hair in long sweeping touches. With a wink at Katja, Haruhi turned back and walked with bouncing steps towards the Hitachiins table.

Pursing her lips in defeat, Katja twisted back in her seat to face Tamaki and his customer, who had pulled one of the plates of dessert towards her and was regarding it carefully. She scooped up a forkful of the white cake and slipped it into her mouth, closing her eyes in exaggerated bliss.

"You must try this, Tamaki-kun, it's absolutely _delight_ful," Fukia said sweetly, extending the fork with a bit of cake on it towards him. Tamaki took it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, his face unreadable. But then he smiled and slipped the fork away from Fukia, feeding her a glob of frosting. Katja looked around for a trash bin – she was sure she was going to hurl.

"Katja-san, don't you want any cake?"

She stared at the cake Tamaki was proffering on the end of the fork, and then up at his not-so-innocent face, which appeared to be waiting on tenterhooks. She had to catch herself from giving him a dirty look, remembering what Haruhi had said. Acting, huh? Now there was something she could do.

"Nein, danke, Tamaki," Katja replied, shaking her head. Fukia seemed suddenly intrigued by her, which she noticed immediately. "Ich will Kuchen nicht essen."

This was, of course, a lie; Katja Goldsmith loved to eat cake and would have liked some very much, thank you (and by her own utensil, please). But, instead, she pushed his hand away gently and carefully directed her gaze towards the wall, resting her chin on her wrist. Tamaki's lip quivered at this blatant rejection and set the fork down on a plate, settling his hand over her own on the table. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, and then continued to stare determinedly at the drywall and curtain. Katja knew she was doing all the right things; Fukia was leaning forwards in her chair, lips parted slightly.

"Surely there's something you want," said Tamaki, his voice willing. Katja shook her head again, fat curls swinging about her cheeks, and she slid her hand from under his, pleased by the look on Tamaki's face, which could be compared to that of a kicked puppy. She was actually beginning to have a bit of fun.

"No, nothing, thank you," she replied politely, accenting her English to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. In the real world, anyone would have been able to tell that she was over dramatizing, but the Host Club didn't live in the real world, and apparently neither did it's customers. Well, a crazy person for an even crazier one. She might as well test the waters, now that she had already dipped her feet in. Besides, it was going to be awfully dull if she couldn't say anything anyone would understand. Screw Kyouya, she could have her own hand in the bargain, right…?

"Please, Tamaki, don't neglect miss Fukia," Katja continued in the same quiet voice, managing a small smile. But the lady in question didn't seem to mind that Tamaki was watching her with a disappointed pout, rather, she was gazing at Katja as though seeing her for the time, and Katja allowed her eyes to soften as she looked back.

"So you do speak English?" asked Fukia, leaning forwards in intrigue. Katja gave a small shrug and took a sip of her tea, which was in desperate need of some sugar.

"A little," she replied, "but I am not yet, how you would say, fluent…? But I speak enough to express myself."

"Very interesting," said Fukia quietly, taking another bite of her cake. "I'm glad that you and I will be able to communicate with each other. I would love to hear about your travels in Europe. Tamaki has told me that you're quite the musical talent."

Katja bit her lip and forced color into her cheeks, looking down at her hands folded in lap. She was becoming very grateful for the theater classes her mother had made take as a child, even though at the time she had thought they were a waste. "I wouldn't say that I'm a 'talent,' but I do travel to different places to play."

"Really?" Fukia pressed, a smile spreading across her face as she scooted her chair over, closer to Katja's, which seemed to affront Tamaki greatly. "Where have you traveled? Whom have you played for, anyone famous?"

"I'm called quite often to play for galas, most usually in France or Austria," explained Katja, all plans concerning purposefully inhibiting her speech slipping away as the subject turned to her travels. "I've been to almost every country in Europe, and I also had the opportunity to play in Sydney, Australia, and in the United States."

"Oh, how I wish I could travel more," sighed Fukia wistfully, holding a hand to her chest. "But my father is deathly afraid of airplanes, and won't allow me to travel without him. It's so unfair."

Katja nodded sympathetically, hardly having to act anymore. "My parents are the same way. I've never played at a concert, opera, or even a wealthy person's home without them being there. It's not that I mind, I love both my parents of course, but coming here to the Japan is the first time I've ever been on my own."

"I would like to hear you play sometime," Fukia said. "I should ask my father if you could play at one of our parties – or better yet, you should play here, for the Host Club!"

"Oh, well…I-I don't think anyone here would want to listen to me here."

"Nonsense!" insisted Fukia as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll bring it up to Kyouya-kun, I'm sure he would agree. This place really could use some music, don't you think, Tamaki-kun?"

"I suppose," muttered Tamaki and he folded his arms over his chest crossly, stubbornly refusing to meet Katja's gaze. Katja smiled for the briefest of moments, and then looked back at Fukia, her eyebrows curved downwards in pretend confusion.

"There isn't ever music here?" she asked, running a thumb across her bottom lip. Fukia frowned slightly and shook her head in reply. "That's very strange, because Tamaki plays the piano quite beautifully."

"Does he?" Fukia turned towards Tamaki, her face alight. "I didn't know!"

"How would you know," said Tamaki, his voice low with his sulk, "you've never heard me play before."

"Well of course I have, we're cousins, remember," Katja reminded him cheerfully. "But he's fantastic, and if you appeal to Kyouya about me, you must mention Tamaki. He won't mind, trust me."

"I'll certainly remember to talk to the man," Fukia said, smiling widely now. "But I'm afraid I have to be going, I have an appointment with my father, unfortunately. It's been quite the pleasure, Katja Goldsmith, and I look forwards to the next time we meet. Hopefully you'll still be here…?"

"Oh yes, I doubt I would be allowed to leave even if I wanted to," replied Katja with a chuckle to herself.

"That's good, then, because I really would like to witness your talent," said Fukia with a nod. She swiveled her head and held out her hand for Tamaki to take. "I sincerely thank you for your time and affection, Tamaki-kun."

"Of course, princess Fukia, I devote all the time in the world and affect in my heart to you," Tamaki replied dramatically, sweeping himself onto one knee and taking her hand, pressing it to his lips. "Your parting saddens me greatly."

"As does it me."

And with that, Fukia stood and folded her arm against Tamaki's as he led her towards the door. Katja watched with a thoughtful gaze as Fukia managed to catch Kyouya's attention, explaining something to him with great enthusiasm, and Katja sat up straighter when all three glanced in her direction. She hadn't really expected the girl to actually _suggest_her playing at the Host Club, but now that Katja thought about it, the more sense it made. She would certainly be more useful if she played for the club and its customers, and besides, that's what she was there for, wasn't she? A source of unfamiliarity, a foreign influence? Well whatever it was, at least it would keep Katja from dying of complete boredom and Host Club inflicted disgust. Besides, she truthfully wanted to hear Tamaki play. She had never met anyone, excluding her father, who had a drive comparable to her own. And while that may have been a little conceited, Katja knew that she would've have played in opera houses across Europe, America, and Australia if she wasn't good.

After Fukia had vanished from the third music room, Katja stayed seated in her chair at the table as, slowly over the course of the next hour, the remainder of the club's guests filtered reluctantly out the door. She took her time in finishing her tea, also polishing off the cake (a confection of vanilla crème with mallow glaze and candied violets) that Fukia had left, even spending a moment on admiring the chinaware, painted with tiny roses and gold filigree. Katja was still studying her own saucer when she heard someone stomp his or her (although most likely his) way over and collapse heavily into the chair across from her.

"What's the problem?" Katja asked, eyes still on the porcelain, turning it over in her hands. When she was not given an answer, she set the china back down on the table and looked up to see a very sulky Tamaki, who was giving her a glare from under his hair. "Tamaki. I said, what's the _problem_?"

"You're the problem," he said finally, sinking further down into his chair. Katja laughed, causing Tamaki to sink so far under the table that he was no longer visible. Rolling her eyes, Katja reached down and unbuckled her shoes, carefully removing them before slipping down onto the floor and lifting up the linen tablecloth. Tamaki was crouched between the legs of the table, his head pressed into his knees.

"Oh come on, Tamaki, you can't honestly be jealous can you?"

The clenching of his fists on his pant legs told her yes, he could. Sighing, she pulled herself under the table and wiggled in next to Tamaki, who scooted to allow her room. Bringing her knees up to her chin under her dress and wrapping her bare arms around them, Katja nudged the blond with her shoulder, watching him recoil with a degree of exasperation.

"So the Host Club king is envious because I stole his customer and he thinks it'll happen again," Katja mused thoughtfully, her eyes on Tamaki's head, face still buried. "I'm just a girl, y'know. All they want to hear from me are things about Europe, half of which I'm going to probably make up because otherwise my stories will be boring. But after a while, all those pretty young women are going to get tired of me, and then who are they going to come running after? You."

The distraught young man's head rose an inch and Katja caught a glimpse of a shining violet eye. "Me?"

"Of_course_ you, you great moron!" Katja snapped, poking him hard in the side. "And it's not like those girls will be paying for my company anyway, that'd be gross – they'll be paying for whatever host I'm with that day, and I just come as an extra. How derogatory."

"She thought you were great."

"Who, Fukia?" asked Katja, surprised. Tamaki nodded weakly. "Fascinating."

"She actually asked Kyouya-san, about you playing here. He said he would consider it."

Katja arched an eyebrow. "So what about you, did she mention you?"

"Yes," came the quiet reply.

"And?" she prodded eagerly.

"He…he said he would consider that also."

"YES!" Katja hooted, in a voice far too loud for the small space in which they were scrunched. She threw her arms around Tamaki's shoulders and hugged him tightly, not noticing his feeble protest. "Ah, Tamaki! Wouldn't it be great if you and I had a duet or something? Oh, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do a duet, with someone whose skills are halfway decent! I doubt Kyouya would even consider it if he didn't _know_ you were good, because I mean, I only just met the man and I can already tell he's a tight– I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Tamaki mumbled something that Katja couldn't understand and she gave him another squeeze, nigh forcing all the air from his lungs. "You would agree to it, if Kyouya did, wouldn't you? Please, Tamaki, it really would make this whole thing worth it for me."

"I suppose," he murmured into his arm, trying not to touch any part of her skin. Katja leaned towards him, a smiling working its way across her face.

"This that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Oh thank you, Tamaki!" said Katja, planting a kiss atop his head and causing him to go rigid. "Really, you have no idea how much this means to me, and I am in no way a sentimental person. Well, except with kids, I simply adore kids..."

There was a rustle of fabric and Katja suddenly found herself looking into two identical faces, each wearing the same amused expression, one of the twins holding up the skirt of the linen as they both peered through. "So there you are," said Hikaru, or Kaoru, "we had wondered where our lord and our foreigner had disappeared to. We hope you're not doing anything you shouldn't be."

"Unless you count Tamaki pouting like a girl…"

"Nope, that's quite normal."

Katja shook her head and released Tamaki, who slumped over into the table leg beside him. "Then I think we're good. Would you mind, please?" She extended both her hands and each of the Hitachiins grabbed one, hoisting her out from under the table and back onto her feet. After quickly adjusting her dress, which had ridden up on her thigh at a height rather uncomfortable, Katja was trapped beneath the arms of the redheaded tricksters slung over her shoulders, steering her towards a couch upon which Haruhi and the rest of the Host Club were sitting.

"So how did your first little encounter go?" asked the twin on her left, whom Katja assumed to be Kaoru.

"She thought I was _ah-mazing_," replied Katja, adopting a baritone and drawing out the last word in a very Tamaki-like manner. The brothers both snickered.

"As sickened as we are to hear that," began Kaoru, looking down at her with an innocent face.

"There is one thing we must point out to you," finished Hikaru, smirking slightly. Katja glanced from one to the other curiously, not liking the situation at all. "Think of it as your first lesson in etiquette."

"From you two?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "Alright, what is it?"

Two swift hands slid down her sides and over her bottom, pinching the flesh sharply and causing Katja to gasp in surprise and straighten her back completely. She didn't realize what had happened until two mouths whispered the same words into her ears a moment later.

"Stand up straight."

* * *

**(A/N) **I wrote the bit where Katja smacks the twins after I remembered that Haruhi slapped Hikaru in the anime, and was too lazy to change it. Whoops.


	4. Irregular Verbs

**(A/N) **I-I am flattered.

* * *

_Oh, that's your fading grace_

_You know now not to stare._

* * *

Irregular Verbs

The buzzing of the alarm clock once again came at far too early an hour, and Katja's head turned over on the pillow, eyes shooting the rattling contraption a glare that should have melted it into a pile of runny goo. It was baffling to her how the thing managed to go off at six o'clock in the morning when she specifically neglected setting it, and also why it was still functioning the way a clock should. Pulling the duvet back over her head, Katja could recall smashing it several times against the wall the previous day. Something fishy was up, and she wanted to know what. It was, quite literally, depriving her of sleep.

Katja settled herself back into her nest of blankets and her eyes fluttered closed, hands splaying across the lusciously soft material. While she knew she should have been climbing into the shower, the comfortable bed was overriding all reason and she found herself slipping back into a drowsy stupor. Honestly, Katja deserved a good lie in, or so _she_ thought; she had spent the entirety of the previous day with the Host Club, trying vainly to survive her first lesson in etiquette. Before she had been swallowed by the insanity of that day, Katja really hadn't thought that the members of the club would be so well referenced in manners and the like; they were a club whose sole purpose was to make girls blush and giggle, and how much class could that require? Apparently, quite a lot, and the hosts hadn't hesitated in squashing everything they knew about the fork on the left (or was it right?), the importance of the smallest finger, and how to fold your napkin into an industrial size blender, pressing purée, and force feeding her the contents through a funnel. The process had taken almost twenty-one hours; leaving Katja just four hours to sleep off her newly discovered migraine.

It was clear that those four hours hadn't been nearly enough, and Katja was completely content with sacrificing part of the scheduled lesson for a few more hours sleep. Screw the fact that the Host Club members (mainly Kyouya) would be angry, she felt like crap and it was _their_ fault. The alarm clock had finally ceased its ringing, and Katja sunk farther into a blissful slumber, the pounding in her cranium slowly ebbing away. Her quiet heaven was soon interrupted, however, by the sound of a door being opened, carefully, but still creaking on its hinges. Someone tiptoed across the threshold, over the marble and rug, trying vainly to be silent, but Katja's near perfect hearing, honed from nearly fourteen years of musical instruction, picked up the rustle of the carpet.

"I thought I told you not to come in when the door is locked, Tamaki," said Katja into the duvet, her voice muffled. She heard the blond's squeak of surprise before the mattress beneath her dipped towards the corner and a hand whipped back the blankets from her face. She gasped at the loss of warmth and struggled to bury herself further into the bed, but Tamaki was having none of it, and he snatched her forearm, halting her efforts with strength Katja wouldn't have assumed he possessed.

"You hurt my feelings so, princess!" he blubbered, eyes brimming with sparkling tears. "I refuse to believe that you would rather sleep late than spend time with my friends and I!"

Katja froze and stared up at him, her resolve to stay in bed melting away almost immediately at the snuffling blond. He was so like a child, and Lord knew, Katja had a soft spot for children. She sat up, pushing her back against the brass grill work headboard, and quickly dropped her eyes to his hands, which were clutching the duvet as though it were his only remaining connection to Earth. Katja was slightly revolted that the strangeness of the situation hadn't registered in her mind, and even when it did, it hardly seemed strange at all. But really, Ouran did occupy its own little universe.

"I would much rather spend time with you all," Katja muttered, looking carefully anywhere but at Tamaki's face. "But I…accidentally overslept. Just tired from yesterday, you know." Her gaze stole upwards, but Tamaki appeared contently happy, his usual smile back in place, and Katja breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh yes, I can certainly understand that," he laughed casually, turning his head into the slices of morning sunlight filtering through the opening in the curtains in the tall picture windows. Katja wasn't sure if this was a subtle insult or Tamaki's usual oblivious nature about nearly everything he said. "I can imagine this time difference isn't easy to cope with."

Yep, it was the latter.

"True, but that's not why…uh, never mind," said Katja quickly, waving her hands as Tamaki looked at her curiously. "So, did you really just come here to drag me out of bed – or maybe you brought breakfast?"

"Of course, you know me too well," he replied with another wide smile, gesturing towards the writing desk upon which sat a silver tray filled with an array of elegant treats. Katja pushed the remaining blankets from her legs hastily, untangling herself from the mess and hurrying over to the desk. She grasped the handles of the tray and made her way back towards Tamaki, who was still perched on the edge of the bed, seemingly unbothered by her pajamas (sweatpants and a too large t-shirt). She set the feast down in the space between them, scrambling back up and popping a piece of pineapple from a bowl into her mouth. She grinned at the blond, wiping the juice from her chin with a finger. Wow, this _was_ really weird.

"Well go on, eat something."

"No, no, I brought it for you," replied Tamaki, shaking his head. Katja flipped her knotted curls over her shoulder and pushed her mouth into a pout. It was something that she had developed over years of meeting various sorts of people and having only moments to make a good impression: the skill of reading a person's traits on the fly, and using them to her advantage. She was quickly becoming aware of the weaknesses of the hosts, as each had his (or her) own distinct personality and flaws; even the Hitachiin twins had their differences. It just so happened that Tamaki had a fatal spot for a sweet face and a pair of misty eyes.

"Come on, Tamaki, please? You'll only make me feel guilty if you don't."

Half true, half not, Katja reminded herself as Tamaki gave in and dipped his finger into the frosting of one of the pastries crowded onto a plate. If there was something she was starving for, it was company. As cheesy as Katja knew it was, she had never had a constant in her life, save for her parents. She was the only Goldsmith child, and the family she did have outside of her parents might as well have not existed. Katja had never had any friends, she traveled too much to create solid relationships – and in the competitive world of entertainment, she was lucky if she _didn't_ have friends. So it was safe to say that this occurrence of forced bonds, this Host Club, was (although Katja would never admit it) a mixed blessing. She needed regularity, even if the thing itself was anything but regular.

"Hey, Blondie," said Katja after a time of quiet munching, tapping a biscotti on the edge of her cup, "can I ask you something?"

"If I can assume that you're talking to me, then yes."

"Why is a little pixie girl like Haruhi parading round as a boy?" She laughed, biting into the now soft cookie. "I mean, who would be idiot enough to fall for _that_?"

At this, Tamaki's cheeks flamed a dull red and he muttered, "I have no idea."

After some further coaxing, and a few hard pokes to the ribs, the story of Haruhi's predicament finally bubbled out and Katja was felt feeling slightly disappointed. Her fingers hovered over the silver tray, plucking the final strawberry from a bowl and running it over her bottom lip, not noticing the defeated frown on Tamaki's face.

"Oh, so that's all?" concluded Katja as she chewed the fruit. "Knocking over a vase…I had hoped it might be something a bit more interesting. Lord knows, with you lot."

"'That's all'?" spluttered Tamaki, causing him to choke on his tea and Katja to scoot backwards away from him. "How can you say 'that's all'? Do you realize that because of that incident you consider so trifle, my daughter is now forced to hid her exquisitely feminine figure in clothes most unflattering?" He paused, dabbing at his eyes with the duvet. "Oh the woes of the father with beautiful daughters!"

"And there's another thing I wanted to ask you about," continued Katja after Tamaki had managed to regain control of himself, taking deep shuddering breaths. "Why do you refer to Haruhi as your daughter? And call me crazy, but I swear I heard you call Kyouya 'mummy' yesterday."

"Well the Host Club and its members are quite like my family," sniffed Tamaki, and Katja even patted his hand consolingly. She didn't know how much more of this she could take…. "Since I created the club, that would make me the father of our family. Kyouya is the mother, since he manages, or dictates, almost the same amount of our affairs as I do. And the other members are my lovely little kin, even you…except for those menacing twins, those two are always trying to move in on my sweet Haruhi."

Katja couldn't help the snicker that escaped her, but she quickly stifled it with her fist. "Ah, so it's a daily battle to protect your daughter's innocence from the redheaded hooligans, is it?"

"The exact same," murmured Tamaki darkly; casting a wary glance around the room, as though he expected said hooligans to materialize. It was only after Katja had reluctantly finished her tea and remaining pieces of pineapple sticking to the bottom of the porcelain that Tamaki was able to usher her into the washroom for a shower, giving her a look of utmost dismay when she emerged wearing a plum knit sweater and clean cut jeans.

A row was avoided, however, when the bedroom door was smashed open, leaving both Katja and Tamaki covered in plaster, gaping at the five figures in the doorway. A golden haired Mitsukuni flounced over the fallen door, plush toy under his arm, followed closely by a deadpan Takashi, a mildly surprised looking Haruhi, and a pair of frowning Hitachiins.

"Tama-chan," yawned the boy, blinking up at the stunned young man, "what is taking so long? Usa-chan was worried."

"And since when do _you_ get to eat breakfast with Katja?" snapped Hikaru, or Kaoru, sending said German teetering into Haruhi as he brushed past her to point an angry finger in Tamaki's face. "First you try and monopolize Haruhi, and now Katja – how fair is that?"

"So is this a regular occurrence, then?" Katja asked Haruhi quietly after apologizing, and hastily grabbing her hand for refuge. Haruhi gave her a swift smile and squeezed her fingers. "Breaking down doors and the like? Must keep things interesting."

"You'd be surprised," she replied with a small laugh.

"Oh, because I was considering investing in some life insurance and–"

"Like it's my fault my daughters prefer spending time with me over you cretins?"

"–if handsome teenagers come breaking down my door every morning–"

"Who're you calling _cretins_, you kiss-a-holic?"

"–might increase my risk for a heart attack–"

"Please don't hurt Tama-chan, Hika-chan! He's too delicate to withstand bruises!"

"–I'm just going to stop talking now–"

"I am most certainly_ not_ too delicate, I am the definition of manliness!"

"And well if that's how it's going to be…WOULD YOU ALL KINDLY SHOVE IT?"

A shocked silence filled the room as five heads whipped around to stare at Katja, who was still standing politely next to Haruhi, her arms now crossed over her chest and ballet flat clad foot tapping on the marble, doing her best to look like an agitated soccer mom. Hikaru's hands unclenched themselves from Tamaki's shirt and his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, quickly restrained him and took to the task of calming the short tempered Hitachiin. Mitsukuni's lip trembled and a second later, he was burying his face into Takashi's pant leg, while Tamaki merely continued to stare.

"Thank you all so very much," said Katja in a voice of forced calm, "for, uh, breaking down my door. Well that's the director's problem, not mine. Anyway, as you can all plainly see, I'm awake, I'm dressed, I would really like a moment to myself if you don't mind, considering you all seem keen on occupying–"

"But you see, that's the problem," said Kaoru, or Hikaru, appearing at her side and hooking his arm through hers.

"We do mind," added Hikaru, or Kaoru from the opposite side. He ruffled her hair and smirked, something Katja was quickly learning to become wary of. "And besides, you've got an appointment with Dark Lord number one."

"Wait a second, _who_?"

* * *

"Oh c'mon, Kyouya, please, I really don't think I can do it. Can't we just accept that fact and move on? I can feel the bruises already…"

"No pupil of mine accepts failure. If you had figured that out straight away, you wouldn't have any bruises. So, again."

Katja groaned loudly and pulled at her curly hair, squeezing her eyes shut and willing it all to disappear. She was feeling extremely sour, and it was all because of the wire-rimmed glasses-wearing host waving his finger at her. The urge to wipe the smirk from his face was overwhelming.

A poke in her side reminded her that she was still teetering on the low balance beam, her socked feet curled over the edge to keep her stance. She whipped around and, in doing so, lost her footing for what felt like the umpteenth time, collapsing onto the floor, face first. A minute passed and, when she did not get up, there was the sound of squeaking sneakers on wood and a finger brushed through her mane of curls.

"You're not going to get anywhere just laying there," said the matter of fact voice of Hitachiin Hikaru . Katja lifted her head an inch, glaring up at him through her bangs, only to be met with a lopsided smirk as he twirled a gold tress around his thumb.

"You asshole, I wouldn't _be_ laying here if you had waited until I was ready!" Katja snapped, pushing herself back onto her bottom with her palms. She braced her hand against his shoulder and gave him a shove, but the boy barely even wobbled. "How come you can do it, but I can't?"

Hikaru tilted his head to the side and gave her a confused dip of his brow. "Because you're an uncoordinated ditz, I thought that was obvious."

"So says the redhead with a failing grade in algebra…."

"Both of you, shut up," cut in Kyouya from his position above them, seated in an armchair, scribbling away in the notebook flipped opened in his lap. "Katja, get back up and do it again. And watch your mouth or I'll have it permanently removed from your face."

"I doubt this is necessary," Katja growled as she grudging accepted the hand Hikaru offered her, pulling a bit harder than she should have on his fingers as he helped her to her feet. "I should report this to the director!"

Kyouya peered over his glasses, arching an amused eyebrow at the irate girl with her hands on her hips, arms formed into sharp angles. "Tell me, who's opinion would the director trust more? Yours, or mine?"

Katja's expression faltered and quickly turned from furious to crestfallen as she chewed her bottom. "Well when you put it that way…."

He could only smirk.

An hour and a half later, Katja had finally accomplished the goal; being able to keep her balance on the wooden beam while Hikaru poked unrelentingly at her sides with a rod. When Kyouya nodded his acceptance of the progress, she leapt down gratefully and after snatched the rod from Hikaru, giving the boy a sharp jab in the ribs and causing the redhead to shout about barbaric girls. Kyouya allowed the pair to scuffle and bicker (preventing it would only aggravate tension between the two), and it wasn't until Katja was yelling in German and Hikaru in Japanese that he decided it was time for a break. The club would only suffer if one of its members and new muse were allowed to beat each other to pulps.

"Katja, you're finished for the day."

"Stay out of it!" the German girl and Japanese boy yelled in unison, both turning their heads sharply towards him, moaning in pain at the instantaneous cracks. Katja lowered the rod, which she had been brandishing dangerously close to Hikaru's nose, and rubbed the back of her neck, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Oh, uh, thanks," she grumbled as Hikaru wheeled away, his hands clamped to the sides of his head. He made his way towards the window seat and threw himself down on the cushion, flinging a hand over his eyes. There was a clatter as the rod slipped from Katja's hand, rolling away and snagging on the edge of the carpet as she went to fold herself into the chair next to Kyouya's.

"Remind me again what the point of this was?" asked Katja after a minute passed in awkward silence, her voice muted as she pressed her chin in her palm. Kyouya shot her an annoyed look that she accepted with a shrug, leaning forwards in the chair to pull the pot of tea on the coffee table towards her. He returned his eyes to his notebook and handed her a cup smoothly, her fingertips brushing over his as she murmured thanks.

"The point of this was to instill a sense of balance into your otherwise graceless person," replied Kyouya after another moment, causing Katja to snort with laughter into her tea.

"Well I know that," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I meant, what was the point of dragging Hikaru into this? Where's the rest of the Club, anyway?"

"Hikaru's the only host who could have pushed you over without remorse," Kyouya said simply, pausing in his writing to look over at Katja, who seemed slightly surprised, her cup hovering inches away from her lips. "Karou is softer than his brother; he wouldn't have done it. And the rest of them would have only gotten in the way."

"Mm, I see," said Katja thoughtfully, casting a glance towards the window in which Hikaru was still sprawled. "That's ironic. Well, I _suppose_ I shouldn't have lost my temper, he _was_ only trying to help. And to be here without his twin…." She sighed heavily and set her teacup on the edge of the table, fidgeting with the pastel bracelets on her wrist. "D'you think I should bother to apologize or…something?"

Kyouya said nothing and Katja took this as his agreement. Even if it wasn't, it gave her the resolve to haul her increasingly dragging butt from the comfortable chair and walk slowly towards the comatose Hitachiin. Leaning against the wall beside the window, Katja knew that Hikaru sensed her presence, and his hand twitched over his face, fingers curling a millimeter inwards out of instinct. She hadn't meant to blow up the way she had, but she had spent two days of etiquette instruction with the Host Club, and already her nerves were worn threadbare. While Katja was inherently a mild person, even she had her limits.

"Hey," Katja said quietly, moving to sit down on the window seat next Hikaru. She shifted his legs and slid between the cold glass planes behind her and the smooth wallpaper on the drywall. "C'mon, Hikaru, don't ignore me."

A space appeared between his fingers and an amber eye peered through them at her pouting mouth and saddened eyes. Hikaru made a sound of defeat and sat up, slouching against the window and crossing his long legs. He fixed Katja with a perturbed frown, which only made her lips twist into a grin. "You've been hanging around Lord too much. All his idiocy is going to your head."

"Maybe," she laughed as he tapped her forehead with a finger. "You know, Tamaki breaks into my room each morning, just so he can eat breakfast with me. He's so adorable, like a child – I just can't turn him away. And I think he enjoys pretending I'm Haruhi."

Hikaru shrugged uncaringly but Katja did not miss the relaxation of his brow, and she caught his hand between her own, giving him the sincerest look she could come up with.

"Listen, I want to apologize for being ungrateful for your help."

"Is that Kyouya talking, or you?"

"What, are you insane?" Katja gave his hand a squeeze and he recoiled slightly. "Look," she continued, "I've spent the past forty eight hours swallowing this crap you all enjoy so much, and it kind of tastes like month old tuna casserole. The last thing I want is one of the few semi-non-totally-bananas-friend-like figures I have to be angry with me. So. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

After hearing this grotesquely heart-felt apology, Hikaru managed to stare at her with a blank face for only a few moments before he lost the battle with his smile and began to laugh. The sincere light in Katja's eyes was blown out when he continued to laugh and she dropped his hand as though it had burned her, making an indignant huff as she jumped back from the window seat.

"Fine then, laugh," she snapped, turning on her heel, "I'll be sure to put something real nice on your grave, Herr Hitachiin. Maybe some Tupperware–"

"Would you shut up already?" said Hikaru, snagging her wrist from behind. The sudden closeness of his voice was enough to make Katja's words die on her tongue and render her feet immobile. "I was only teasing you, but you're hilariously adorable when you plead. Although, I may consider accepting your apology if it included another little kiss."

"Oh, from who? A monkey?"

"You, obviously."

At this, Katja turned her head and rolled her eyes at the smirking face resting on her shoulder. "Of course not, you just _said_ you were joking." Hikaru lifted and dropped an eyebrow, his fingers twisting themselves in the sleeves of her sweater. "Besides, I haven't a reason, and that would just be a waste."

"I could give you one," murmured the redhead, brushing her hair back from her neck. His lips whispered over her skin, and Katja felt rather than saw his smirk widen.

"Well, it all depends," said Katja, her voice steady. Hikaru hummed his attention against the swoop of her jaw, curling a lock of hair around his index finger. "What's in it for me?"

He pressed his mouth against her skin again and pulled back slightly, hands now on her shoulders. "Whatever you like."

Laughter bubbled up in Katja's throat and she spun round under his arms, pushing him back until he bumped into the window seat. He wore an expression similar to a child who has been scolded, lips set into a defiant pout. While the act may have worked for Tamaki, it did not justice for Hitachiin Hikaru and Katja chuckled again.

"Don't play your host tricks on me," she chided, still smiling, twirling a finger and tapping his nose. "I'm far too smart to fall for them."

"That may be so," replied Hikaru, taking her hand and starting off back towards Kyouya, who was still absorbed in his writing, leaving Katja to stumble along behind him. "But some day, that won't matter."

"Says you," Katja remarked, finally catching up and settling pace beside him.

Hikaru shot her a smug look. "And it is _because_ I say it that it is true."

While she would have liked to retort scathingly to this overly confident illusion, they were in hearing range of Kyouya, and Katja held her tongue. Hikaru released her hand and flopped lazily into the armchair next to Kyouya's, the one she had previously vacated and had intended to reclaim. The mischievous sparkle in Hikaru's eyes told her all she needed to know, and he patted the space next to him in the chair. Katja could only wrinkle her nose.

"I see the children have made up, then?" said Kyouya, looking up at Katja and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"No, it was only Hikaru being immature."

The young man in question merely shrugged. "What, I was only playing her. I've got to get my laughs somehow when Kaoru and Haruhi aren't here." He twisted his head this way and that, scanning the room, as if he had only just noticed their absence.

"Where are they anyway?"

"Tamaki dragged them all off to the commoners' department store," replied Kyouya, twiddling his pen between two fingers. "He wanted to buy something for Antoinette."

Katja's ears perked up at this as she reached for her teacup, only to find it being slid away across the table by a foot belonging to Hikaru. She knocked away his shoe and sipped at the now cold tea thoughtfully. Did Tamaki have a girlfriend? She certainly wouldn't have been surprised if he did, but she had the impression that he harbored a thing for Haruhi. He didn't seem one for secrets, anyway, even if he managed to keep them.

"Who's Antoinette?" inquired Katja casually. She seated herself on the carpet with as much grace as she could muster, making an effort to tuck her legs beneath her bottom in straight angles, earning herself an appreciative nod from Kyouya.

"She's Milord's dog. He loves that animal to death; I think because they have so much in common, if you know what I mean."

"Hey, Kyouya," Katja said suddenly. She tapped her fingernail against the side of her cup with a ping and he peered at her questioningly. "What're you writing?"

"Crossword puzzle," he sniffed, drumming the end of this pen on his notebook. "Although I'm having trouble with ten across: 'a six letter word used for describing an insufferable character.'"

Admitting defeat? Ootori Kyouya? Katja had spent enough forced time with the man to know that something was up. However…. "Oh, oh, I've got it!" she exclaimed after several moment of silence, waving her hand excitedly. "H-I-K-A-R-U. Six letter word used to describe an insufferable character – it's perfect."

Kyouya scribbled down the letters as she said them, and then reread what he had written, furrowing his brow as he looked from his paper to Katja, to Hikaru, and back again. "Katja, did you notice that this word has the same spelling as Hikaru's name?"

She allowed her lips to part in surprise, gaping at Hikaru's deadpan expression.

"Imagine that."

"The pair of you are insufferable," muttered Hikaru, turning his chin away on his wrist, eyes closed.

"To each, his own."

"Or her own."

"Of course," replied Kyouya with a shadow of another smirk behind the rim of his teacup. He turned his wrist over and glanced at his wrist, eyebrows shooting upwards at the face of the watch resting against his pulse. "It's almost three o'clock – where are those idiots? I specifically told Tamaki to be back here at three, otherwise it'll be his head."

Ah, so it was the mother of the Host Club, the shadow king, the secret marionette, the dictator in disguise, the masked manipulator, the intellectual wheeler-dealer, the–

"Katja, you need to change."

–bloody bastard.

"W-what?" she spluttered, staring at him in disbelief. She looked for Hikaru for some sort of support, but the redhead merely sneered in triumph. "But it's Sunday, why would the club be open?"

"We're hosting a special event," Kyouya responded unsympathetically, peering at the desperate German over his glasses. He gestured over his shoulder with his pen, towards the back of the room and the oh-so conveniently located changing tent. "For a special occasion, and your presence will be required. As you should have expected."

"Oh come _on_, Ootori!" Katja whined, folding her hands pleadingly. "You just had me beat with a stick, and I'm tired. I can't be expected to–"

"But you are," interrupted Kyouya, dark eyes flashing. "Now. Go."

"Arschloch," Katja muttered as she rose jerkily to her feet and stalked between the sofa and armchairs, her arms held stiffly at her sides. She was about to duck under the fabric flap of the tent when she heard something that made her stop dead, fingernails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to flash a rather rude hand gesture at the back of Kyouya Ootori's head.

"Watch your language."

She would have to be more careful in the future of what she said around Kyouya, Katja noted as the flap swung closed behind her and she made her way towards the mirror and covered hanger, dangling from a corner of the mirror, at the other end of the tent. If he could speak some degree of German, it wouldn't matter if she let something really bad slip, he would still understand it. But, quite honestly, Katja should have expected it.

Grasping the zipper of the garment bag, she pulled it downwards and the cover slipped off the metal hanger to pool on the floor around her feet. Katja couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when she saw the dress underneath. It was something she wouldn't have imagined the Host Club would have selected for her; it wasn't elegant or flash, but still stylish in a simple way. It was a casual dress with cropped sleeves and a collar, the fabric a faded green and red plaid crisscrossed with gold, secured just under the bust with a thin patent leather belt. Intrigued (it was something she might actually have picked out for herself), Katja thumbed open the neck, searching for a label as to the designer. But instead, all she found was a small slip of paper, pinned to the fabric inside of the dress, upon which someone had written _'Fröhliche Weihnachen.'_

Happy Christmas.

"_For a special occasion…"_

Katja cocked her head to the side. "Oh."

* * *

Katja was in a stupor, stunned by her own stupidity. After donning the dress, she staggered back out into the music room, half ashamed at herself, half furious at the Host Club, who she soon learned had planned the occurrence from the beginning.

"You _what_?" deadpanned Katja, her eyes blank as she stared at the blond radiating happiness from every pore at an almost nauseating amount.

"Well it was my idea to have a Host Club event for Christmas, because we all knew you were sore about not being home for it," repeated Tamaki, still smiling broadly. "But Kyouya was focused on starting on the etiquette."

"The sooner she started, the sooner she'll finish," added Kyouya quickly from behind his notebook. Tamaki shushed him with waggling fingers and the Hitachiin brothers leaned in on either side, wearing smirks on their identical faces.

"You're a _liaaar_, Kyouya-senpai!"

"Don't bait him, Kaoru, Hikaru!" pleaded Haruhi, looking fearfully at the glasses wearing host, causing the redheaded twins to spring back with realization. Mitsukuni giggled from Katja's side on the sofa, his golden head snuggled against her as he kissed frosting from his fingers. "The Low-Blood-Pressure Dark Lord…!"

"Shut up, the lot of you!" scolded Tamaki angrily. "I'm trying to explain– Hikaru, don't you dare! As I was saying, Katja, the only way I could squeeze this in was if I agreed to allowing Kyouya to give you so much work so that you would hopefully forget about Christmas, and then we could still do this after the fact."

"Am I supposed to be thanking you?" said Katja, rubbing an eye with her fingertips. Tamaki ducked his head and blushed scarlet, glancing over at her through his tresses. She felt something heavy drop into her stomach…he had figured it out. The slimy git had _figured it out_. How could she say no to that face? She couldn't – and Tamaki knew. While it didn't work on Haruhi, who turned icy when he pulled the act, it did on Katja, who currently had the consistency of melted sugar. Well, Tamaki _had_ always respected the art of sculpting candies….

"That was very…kind of you, Tamaki," muttered Katja, swinging her neck around and fixing her gaze on the wall as Mitsukuni snatched a strawberry from the plate resting on her knees. "Thank you. Even though you're the cause of my newfound bruises."

"Bruises, what bruises? How could you have gotten bruises?"

Katja shot a pointed look towards Kyouya, and Tamaki rounded on him, pointing a finger very close to his slim nose, a vein throbbing in his temple. "K-kyouya! I can't believe you, my daughter…_your _daughter…_m-m_orals!"

Just as the Hitachiins began chanting the word 'fight,' there was a loud knock on the door of the Third Music Room, and everyone fell silent. Mitsukuni squealed excitedly and bounded over the back of the sofa, scurrying over to open the doors. He swung them open and in staggered Takashi, face hidden by a tower of brown boxes, wrapped in packaging tape.

"Ne, ne, Kat-chan, Takashi brought all the packages from your family!" the sparkling Lolita-shota explained, guiding the tall man towards the group. "They all arrived for you yesterday, but we couldn't give them to you then. We had to hide them in the piano in the music room so you wouldn't suspect anything."

"You did a good job then," remarked Katja, once again stunned, as Takashi settled the tower of boxes in the space next to her. It was true – each and every one of the packages was postmarked from her parents in Köln, Germany, addressed to Ouran High School with her name. She was impressed; it must have cost a small fortune to send so many packages so quickly. Katja could smell her mother's hand in the plot, which was slightly frightening; the similarities between her parent and Tamaki were becoming more numerous by the hour. Which was certainly something Katja was not proud of.

At the urging of the hosts ("Only a half hour to moe!"), she tore open the boxes and the seven hosts found themselves buried in a sea of packing peanuts. Hikaru and Kaoru amused themselves with shoving the foam balls up each other's nostrils and those of the other hosts, while Katja busied herself in opening gifts of new clothes, a much-needed mountain of books, and various other assortment of things from her parents.

The redheads were on the run from Tamaki, whom they had crept up behind and stuck packing peanuts up his nose, when Katja opened a box filled with wrapped packages upon which names were written in glittering letters. Looking them over, she discovered that there was at least one present from her parents for every host in the Host Club. Katja looked around at the chaos, confused, then her gaze fell upon Kyouya, face buried in a book, and her eyes narrowed.

Something was up.

"Hey, Hitachiins," called Katja, knowing almost exactly how this was going to play out. The twins in question froze in surprise, and Tamaki came skidding to a halt behind them, just in time to avoid a collision. "Would you come over here for a second, please?"

"Yes, mum, what'd we do this time?" cowered Hikaru, clinging to his brother as they drew nearer to the young German nestled on the floor, surrounded by wrapping paper. "I'd like to live to see age twenty, if you don't mind."

"Be quiet, Hikaru," hissed Kaoru, sending the other a heated look.

"I've got something here for you," Katja continued, raising her hands from the pile of paper so the brothers could see that she held a wrapped package in each hand. "One for Kaoru, and one for Hikaru."

They took the offered gifts from her and looked over them, puzzled. "These are from your parents?" asked Kaoru, and he plopped down on the carpet next to Katja. She nodded in reply. "Er, why?"

"You know as much as I do," she replied, shrugging. "Now shut up and open them before I change my mind."

"Well how do we know your folks aren't trying to sabotage us?"

Katja raised an eyebrow. "Uh, why would they?"

"A bunch of attractive young men spending a lot of time with their daughter?" said Hikaru, sitting down on the floor on the other side of Katja, his knee bumping hers. "That's enough to make any parent worried."

"Who says you're attractive?" Katja retorted crossly, folding her arms over her chest. "Besides, if there's anyone here who should be worried, it's me. My parents sent a box full of presents for every host of the Club – how would they know your names, know things you might like, if I've not even told them about this yet?"

The twins glanced at each other. "The Shadow King…."

"AH, Hikaru, Kaoru, what're you doing?" Tamaki's voice sounded like a siren, causing the two redheads and the sandy blond to flinch considerably. Katja had been waiting for him to storm over, demand why she had asked the Hitachiins to join her and not him, and was frankly surprised that he had not done so sooner. Maybe he had still been stuck in shock…?

"Five meters of distance, you little monsters, five meters!" the Host king cried, waving his hands at the three and looking considerably distressed. From the other side of the room, Katja could have sworn she saw Haruhi giggle and smile. While he girl did deserve a break, Katja thoroughly wished it someone besides herself had been chosen to give it to her.

"You break my heart, Katja! How could you prefer the Hitachiins' company to my own?" Tamaki bleated, eyes welling with tears. Hikaru and Kaoru both sent apologetic looks at her before taking a quick step to the side, but Katja had already predicted this movement, and she latched onto the collars of their shirts and jerked the scowling brothers back into their original positions.

"Oh it's nothing, Tamaki, really," explained Katja hurriedly; releasing the twins' collars (who stayed put out of fear of the new Fourth Dark Lord) and giving the blond's shoulder a comforting pat. He seemed consoled at her touch. "You see, my parents sent everyone Christmas presents from my home and–"

"Every host?" repeated Tamaki, as though it were too good to be true. "From…your home?" Katja nodded and he clapped his hands in excitement. "Well why didn't you say something earlier? We don't have very much time before the Club opens, but that doesn't matter – family time first! Hunny-san, Mori-san, Haruhi, come over here, Katja's parents sent us all presents…and Kyouya, put down that notebook, it's Christmas."

"You'll find that it's not," murmured the black haired man in question, sounding extremely annoyed as the rest of the hosts rushed over to receive their gifts. Katja gave herself up to the infectiously happy mood of the club and she couldn't help laughing as she doled out the colorfully wrapped presents, watching the hosts tear into them like a pack of hungry wolves. Whatever the reasons were, Katja found herself in slight awe of the attentiveness of her parents. Although she was quite sure now that they had been in correspondence with Ootori Kyouya (he _was_ that kind of guy), that didn't stop her from enjoying the feeling of pure, unadulterated cheesiness as the young men (and woman) discovered something that fit each of their personalities under the paper.

There was a stack of boxes filled with German pralines and marzipan for Mitsukuni (and a note promising more), a set of gleaming mahogany nunchaku for Takashi, an assortment of Hermès scarves and hair clips for Haruhi, an American video game for Kaoru, a pair of Burberry sunglasses for Hikaru, several books about famous French pianists for Tamaki, and a mysterious looking, leather bond portfolio for Kyouya, with his initials monogrammed in gold on the cover. He flipped it open and smirked that creepy little knowing smirk of his before nodding approvingly, tilting his head towards Katja.

"Charlotte and Daniel are the most fascinating people," he said, still smirking down at the girl who was now snacking contently on a bar of hazelnut filled chocolate. "You know, I'd be careful if I were you; that dress you're wearing is also a gift from your parents."

Katja swallowed and looked back up at Kyouya thoughtfully from her position on the carpet. "You could have at least told me you were in connection with them," she replied with a small smile.

While under normal circumstances she would have been angry, her tone was normal; Tamaki's Christmas nonsense was actually starting to have an effect on her. Kyouya wasn't sure whether this was to his advantage or not – Katja Goldsmith could normally be counted on to put in her two-cents and talk back, but if this crap had infected her brain…then he didn't know what to expect, which was rather unsettling. That, and Kyouya wasn't fond of the touchy-feely type. But what was 'normal' anyway? If such a thing existed, it had never found its way into Ouran, much less the Host Club.

"Why would I?" said Kyouya, tracing his thumb over the shining monogram. "I assumed you would figure it out eventually, which you obviously did."

"That's not really an answer," Katja responded pointedly, taking another bite from her chocolate. "And since you're beating around the bush," she paused to swallow again, "I'll share_ my_ theory with you. I think you didn't tell me because there's something between my parents and yourself that you don't want me, or anyone else, to know about. But I also think that you're admitting you had contact with them so perhaps I'll pass it off as nothing. Denial is only a fool's tool." She was smirking now, her smug look rivaling Kyouya's. "It's reverse psychology, Ootori. I've been playing people since I was a girl, so don't think I can't spot a scheme when I see one. But, y'know what, honestly I could care less."

Katja hoisted herself to her feet and raised her arms above her head, stretching and sighing in pleasure when her back gave an audible crack. Suddenly, the hemline of her dress was very intriguing. "You stole my Christmas two days ago, and now you're going to give me a celebration better than I've ever had before," she continued, leaning forward towards him with her hands on her knees. "Forget your secret dealings for a couple of hours, Kyouya, play your stupid little Host Club game. But this time, you're all playing it for me. And who knows, maybe you actually gain something from it."

With that, she kissed him swiftly on the end of his nose and turned away lazily, walking back towards the rest of the hosts, who were making a fuss about something over in a corner. "Wonder what they've forced Haruhi into this time…."

Kyouya watched her go, curls swinging freely over her shoulders, with an air of someone who has purchased a trinket and is considering its value. But once she had disappeared into the flurry of hands and fabric, demanding Haruhi's release, his eyes fell back to the leather folder in his lap and the Ootori heir shook his head.

"What an idiot."

* * *

**(A/N) **Kyouya is too cynical. Oh well, so am I.


	5. Double Negative

**(A/N) **DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.

* * *

_I feel like pancakes tonight. _

_You'd be cool with that, right?  
_

_

* * *

_

Double Negative

The Host Club's Christmas event went extraordinarily well. At four o'clock, when the doors were opened, the hosts found themselves overwhelmed by a swarm of customers, all clambering for entrance. Curiously enough, the amount of young men trying to squeeze through was about a third of the number of young girls, which was something that had never before happened in the albeit short history of the club. But this was hardly the most interesting aspect of the event; it was agreed upon by all the hosts (save for Kyouya, for his own reasons) that the prize for the strangest circumstance went to the fact that most of the students wanted to see Katja Goldsmith. _Their_ smart-mouthed, chocolate-loving, foreign naïveté was the subject of most attention, and while this had been part of the goal from the beginning, the hosts realized all too soon that it wasn't to their advantage.

And in more ways than one.

"_Maybe slipping that sake into her tea was a bad idea after all_," murmured Kaoru, leaning stealthily over towards his brother without catching the attention of the gaggle of girls seated around their table. Hikaru made a grunt of agreement and narrowed his eyes, straining to make out the words on Katja's lips as she said something to an unfamiliar boy with dark hair, her hand pressed against her own flushed cheek.

"_Yeah, probably, but she was supposed to host _with_ us, not on her own. What the hell is Kyouya thinking, allowing that? Next time, Kaoru, stop me before I do something stupid_."

"_But you'd never get anything done then_."

Hikaru responded by pinching the thigh of his twin none too gently, and he gasped in momentary pain. Then, quick as only he could, Hikaru was gripping both of Kaoru's hands, pulling him close as his eyes sparkled with worried tears. The young girls seated around them let out a collective gasp, suddenly attentive, and Kaoru turned his head away bashfully.

"Kaoru, what did you do?" asked Hikaru, his voice dripping with concern, and Kaoru almost forgot to look embarrassed when his brother spoke suddenly in English, his volume elevated slightly. "Did you pinch yourself on the chair?"

Almost.

"I-I might have," Kaoru stammered. "I'm sorry, Hikaru, you know I hate seeing you so worried."

"Oh Kaoru, you're so clumsy. And deliciously adorable."

The girls around them were squealing with delight, but the show ended quickly, and Kaoru returned to his usual routine of making clever jokes, causing a cascade of giggles and smiles to flutter down around the brothers. But the kinder of the two began to notice something odd occurring with his twin, and he watched Hikaru closely out of the corner of his eye in the moments between ruses. While Hikaru smirked as widely as ever and the girls could do nothing but fawn over him, the strange sense within Kaoru that linked both twins was going completely haywire. Only someone who had shared a womb with the redhead could have caught the slight pinch of his brow, and the way he attempted to glance nonchalantly over his shoulder but only turned back with flashing eyes. Kaoru had a hunch about what was irking Hikaru, and he decided against reason to try to prod the answer out of his stubborn brother.

"_Do any of you ladies know that girl over there_?" Kaoru asked the four girls seated around their appointed table, his eyes innocent and wondering. _"The one with the ringlets?"_

All of the girls nodded excitedly, and Kaoru couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise, his perception noting when Hikaru sat up straighter in his chair. "_Well of course_!"replied a blond sitting closest to him, looking around at her friends and nodding again. "_Goldsmith Katja, she's a friend of yours, isn't she, Kaoru-kun_?"

"_She is, we see you and Hikaru-kun with her and Haruhi-kun in classes_," added another, twirling the ribbon in her hair around a finger with another smile. "_She's the nicest girl, and her accent is completely adorable. I've heard she's real smart and is here to play for the ambassadors at the arts festival in May. Was it you who told me that, Mao-chan_?"

Mao confirmed this with a scarlet blush and duck of her head. "_Shuzi, you're making me sound like a gossip_."

"_Yah, because you are_!"

The girls burst into giggles again; pressing their hands to their mouths in vain attempts to stifle the sound. Kaoru shushed them good-naturedly, but Hikaru appeared frankly annoyed, his lips twisted sourly, and he peered over his shoulder again. His gaze lingered a moment too long, and it only took a second for the girl named Shuzi to follow his eyes to where Katja was speaking animatedly to a group of young men and women, including a overseeing Kyouya, all of whom laughed occasionally.

It was slightly eerie that she had slipped in by simply being herself. Her sarcastic, foreign self, which was unheard of, especially at a school like Ouran. But that was why it worked. Katja was inexplicably _different_, and she made the norm look dull and boring. But that was one of the things making Hitachiin Hikaru nervous; did that make _him_ dull and boring?

No, no, he reasoned, he and Katja were alike; both had abnormally short tempers, especially when it came to dealing with each other, and both cared less than the average person did about what came out of their mouths. Although, Hikaru had seen something else in Katja – it was the way she smiled at Mitsukuni and pretended not to see when he snatched fruit from her plate, it was the way she talked to Tamaki in that heartfelt way of hers. She was caring, affectionate, but…unpredictable. Yes, that was the word Hikaru had been fishing for, the perfect adjective for Katja's actions, her personality. Well, he _had_ always been attracted the unknown, but damn, why did it have to give him such headache?

But why did he care…or even did he?

"_Anyway, it doesn't matter if Mao-chan _is_ a gossip, because it's true_."

"_What, how d'you know_?"

Shuzi shrugged and took a slow sip from her tea. "_Toko_ _Fukia met Goldsmith-san on her first day here, and she was quite taken with her_," she replied. "_They talk in the corridor, and apparently Toko even calls Goldsmith-san on the phone in her commons. So I guess they discussed it, because Toko was bragging about it the other day in English_."

"_Wait, you mean to say that they're…_friends?" repeated the blond, her eyes wide. Kaoru's head flipped back and forth between speakers, looking slightly foolish, and even Hikaru was listening in to the conversation now. "_Toko Fukia – no way_!"

"_What's so strange about that_?" asked Hikaru, arching an eyebrow. The girls all looked to each other before leaning towards him, hands held up over their mouths to conceal lip movements.

"_Well, Fukia-chan's father is the CEO of a Swedish pharmaceutical company–_"

"–_One which was once the subject of much controversy after some woman used some of their drugs to induce a…a miscarriage_."

"_So_?" Hikaru replied. "_I've never heard of a pharmaceutical company that hasn't fallen under some sort of scandal at one point or another_."

Shuzi shook her head and scooted her chair over several inches towards his. "_The father of the child that was miscarried came after the Toko family. He was completely crazy, and he almost killed all of them in their mansion one night._"

"_What happened that prevented it_?" asked Kaoru, leaning around the back of his brother's chair.

"_Mister Toko had a handgun in a desk and was able to incapacitate the man_," Shuzi replied with a shrug. "_This was years ago, and we weren't even in secondary school yet. But ever since, Toko's been untrusting of everyone and everything. To be frank, it turned her quite cold. She doesn't get along with people very well anymore_."

"_I can't blame her_," added Mao with a sudden shudder. "_I'd never want to leave my house again, if I were her_."

"_But she's attached to Katja_?" asked Hikaru, and everyone at the table turned around to watch as the said young German smiled widely and pushed a curl out of her eyes.

"_But she's attached to Katja_," Shuzi confirmed, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards. "_And she's apparently not the only one_."

Hikaru immediately shot the girl a confrontational look, but she was looking down into her teacup, sipping at the lukewarm liquid innocently. "_Of course, most people Katja has met consider her a friend now, whether she knows it or not_," he responded carefully, still watching as Shuzi set her cup back down onto its saucer, and she looked back up at him, the small smile on her lips for him and only him.

"_Yes, Hikaru-kun, that's what I meant_."

* * *

Katja was glad when the clock finally chimed the arrival of eight o'clock, signaling the closing of the Host Club. The students had all groaned in disappointment, but she had responded with a firm promise to recap her story about when she had been commissioned for a French cheese maker at the next Club meeting. This had replaced the frowns of her new "friends", and they had made their way towards the door, wrapping scarves around their necks and waving farewells, which Katja had returned. But as soon as the door had swung shut behind the last young woman (or man), Katja had not restrained herself from falling sideways onto the sofa, where she still lay, eyes closed and unmoving.

All in all, she was quite pleased with the job she had done, considering the fact that she was operating on four hours of sleep. But Katja took her exhaustion with a bit of satisfaction; it hadn't been difficult to talk to the other Ouran students like she knew them, like she had something in common with them (besides the fact that they were both wealthy), like…like she actually cared about if they were enjoying themselves. All she had done was pull out a few stories about life in Germany and the designer clothes-clad girls and boys had worked themselves up into a tizzy of excitement. Honestly, one would have thought that they weren't rich enough to simply fly there themselves.

"_Lazy bastards," _thought Katja contemptuously, twitching her feet so that her shoes slipped off them and onto the floor. _"What I wouldn't give to have the time to do what_ I_ want, to see the things _I_ want to see."_

It was something that had been coming up increasing in Katja's thoughts – the matter of her freedom. The subject presented itself at odd moments, but each time it did, the more it pressed upon her. Freedom wasn't something Katja had ever really thought about; she had been doing what was asked of her since she was a child, and it was programmed into her mind to obey. Occasionally, she was able to override that instinct, but more often than not Katja wound up practicing that piece one more time, or repeating that story just one more time. She had been handed an instrument at an early age, her brain still mush in her skull, and since that time, she had been traveling around the globe to wherever she was beckoned to play the music that had trapped her. Katja supposed now that, yes, she _could_ have refused, and yes, she _could_ have tarnished her name, but would she ever have?

She knew the answer to that question immediately – no.

Katja could say what ever she wanted, think what ever she wanted, but the truth was that she lived the life she did because she loved music. She hadn't minded sacrificing her childhood if she could absorb herself in her music, and also, she hadn't known anything else. Every other child in the world had the same sort of lifestyle she had, for all Katja had known. But now that she was away from the world in which she had been born and bred, she was beginning to realize all that she had missed, all that she didn't have. And even though she was in one place, without her parents and without her commissions, Katja was still at the mercy of the Ouran director and the Host Club that had been charged with her care, all for the sake of…what was it again, the opportunity of a foreign education? An outstanding recommendation to the university of her choosing? Those were all things she didn't need to gain; she already had them.

So then why _had _she agreed to attend Ouran High School, and to play at the arts festival in May?

It was an answer Katja herself was still trying to find.

"Hey, are you awake?"

"No, Kyouya, I'm sleeping," she replied blankly, neither opening her eyes nor sitting up. "In fact, I am so deeply asleep that I can't even hear you."

"Ah," he said, and Katja could hear the smirk in his voice, "then I suppose you won't mind if I turned off the lights and locked the door behind myself?"

At this, Katja bolted off the sofa and tripped over her fallen shoes as she did so, causing her to nearly collide with the coffee table. But Kyouya's hand had closed around her wrist, and she found herself leaning forwards over the table's surface in a rather awkward position. With a tug, she was propelled back onto the sofa cushions before she could catch her breath, and Kyouya was sitting beside her, as calm as ever.

"I trust everything went well for you tonight?" he said, turning to look at her with raised eyebrows. Katja smiled for a moment, stealing a glance at the leather folder in his lap and knowing exactly what it was.

"Why ask a question you already know the answer to?" she countered, giving him a smirk of her own. "I'm sure the records you've got there will tell you exactly how things went. That, and the fact that you were watching me like a hawk the entire evening."

Kyouya gave a chuckle and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't watching, I was merely observing. I have to of course confirm the authenticity of the accounts from your commissioners and parents."

"What, because you didn't already believe that my charm rivals that of your lord?" laughed Katja.

"Hardly."

"In all seriousness, Kyouya, what really isthat _exactly_? I mean, I have a general idea, but–"

"This," he replied, tapping a finger on the folder, "contains records from every person you've ever been paid to play for, every ambassador you've ever held a conversation with, accounts of events from people you never even knew existed."

Katja felt herself blanch. "Is that…supposed to creep me out?"

"Did it?"

"Well yeah."

Kyouya smiled. "Then yes."

"What exactly are you planning on doing with that information?" she asked, not exactly sure if she wanted to know the answer. But, knowing Kyouya, she would receive only half an answer, and that was if he were feeling gracious.

"You'll find out, sooner or later," was the answer. Well, that was to be expected. What came next, however, was not. Kyouya reached over and ruffled her hair, as one might do to a small child. "It's good to know, Katja, that the one thing we won't need to teach you is how to hold a person's interest."

"Have a little faith, will you," shrugged Katja. "I've been doing this my entire life."

"I know," Kyouya said with another tap on the folder, getting to his feet and walking back around the sofa. "And I'll try, maybe. C'mon, Katja, I think Tamaki's waiting you back to your room."

But Katja did not move from her spot for several moments, and Kyouya stood, watching the back of her head, waiting somewhat impatiently. "Hey, Ootori?" she said suddenly, whipping around to see if he was still there. His eyebrows flew up to indicate that he was listening.

"Yes?"

"Do…do you think that I, I mean, the Host Club _and_ I, could take a trip on…say, uh, a…a _b-boat_, if we had the time?" Katja asked with a sudden nervousness, stumbling over the words in her haste to get them out. Kyouya did not respond immediately, but continued to look at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. But then he nodded, and Katja released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I suppose we could all take a cruise," he replied, holding his chin in thought. "Yes, that would be an interesting experience. I'll make the arrangements."

"Really? We can go, just like that?"

"I'll have to ask the director permission for you to leave school campus, but yes, I'm sure he'll gladly comply. Now hurry up, you look a mess."

Ignoring the comment, Katja tugged her shoes back on and padded across the floor and back towards the door with Kyouya, where she could see Tamaki bouncing up and down animatedly as he talked with a rather tired-looking Haruhi. "Katja," said Kyouya, looking down at her as though the idea had only just struck him, "what makes you want to take a cruise?"

"A what? Oh, the boat – well, I've always wanted to but never had the time to actually go," she replied with a wry smile. "You know, I haven't had the time to do a lot of things I've wanted to, so far in my life."

"Mm, I see. Well I can guarantee you one thing; with this club, you'll do a lot of things, but the majority of them you won't ever have wanted to."

Katja couldn't help but laugh at the irony of his statement. "Says the man who's already had me beat with a large pole."

"At least you now know what to expect," replied Kyouya with another sly smile.

"What should I be looking out for next time? A saber, perhaps, or maybe a crocodile?"

"Oh I was thinking more along the lines of a snapping turtle."

"Don't even _joke_ about those," whispered Katja as she suppressed a shudder. "You know, when I was a child, I was commissioned for an event at an aquarium and–"

"I know," interrupted Kyouya smoothly, and Katja found herself drawn into looking at the leather folder…again. He seemed to be enjoying flaunting that he knew almost every about her and her life. "Katja, you seem to not have understood what I said before; you've spent your entire life, as you've said, playing for the rich and famous. I have their accounts. To put it light, I own your history."

"Yes, I've realized," she said in a softer tone, and if Kyouya noticed, he said nothing. She handed him his scarf from the coat stand as he shrugged on his jacket, giving her a strange look when she smiled up at him.

"I've been thinking about why exactly I agreed to this exchange," Katja began, oblivious to the ruckus the host members were now causing just outside the door. "I couldn't figure it out at first, but I think now I have."

Kyouya cocked an eyebrow, and it disappeared under his hair. "Oh?"

"Yes. For the freedom."

Katja wasn't sure when she had decided upon this revelation, but if there was going to be a person who would possibly comprehend it, that person was Ootori Kyouya. He had her life's work tucked away neatly under his arm, and that's all it really was – work. Love it as she might, Katja knew that there was a hole in her existence that music would never, could never, fill. It was the necessity to be who she wanted to be, do the things she wanted to do, not because she had to, but because it pleased her to do so. And right then, Katja Goldsmith wanted nothing more than to simply be the sixteen year old she was, to taste a bit of independence and make her own choices.

And Kyouya understood.

* * *

The following day was a saving grace for Katja. It was a Monday and classes were resumed as usual, but she could not have been happier because of it. While she enjoyed a nice break now and again, Katja had an active mind that grew restless when kept unoccupied for too long. Although the holiday for Christmas (which she had also completely overlooked) had been brief, Katja found herself in a rather different situation from the one she had been in when she had first arrived at Ouran.

Students waved at her in the corridors, smiled at her as though they were good friends, and her three translators (meaning Kaoru, Hikaru, and Haruhi) wasted half the time in a class period chasing off hopeful attempts at conversation. Even now, as they sat in Algebra with their four desks pushed together, Hikaru was twisted around in his chair, flashing a scalding glare at raven-haired boy who had been slowly inching his chair towards them for the past twenty minutes. Katja bent her head over her notebook, scribing down an answer before checking it against Haruhi's.

"Nobody's ever going to talk to me again if you keep dishing out the death stare, Hikaru," murmured Katja quietly, the tip of her pencil hovering over the paper as she waited for the heated response. Her eyes were still on the problem that Haruhi had rewritten in English, and she noticed that both her and Kaoru's pens had also ceased their movements. Hikaru turned back round in his chair and folded his arms atop the desk, his demeanor surprisingly calm.

"Good," he replied, his tone sharp. "The only people who should be around you are Haruhi, Kaoru, and I. Everyone else has to pay for your company."

Almost simultaneously, Haruhi let out an exasperated groan and Kaoru hissed "Hikaru!", both expecting a violent argument to follow. While the Goldsmith may have had a friendly disposition, she was like a bomb with a short fuse when provoked, and all three of the Japanese students knew it. But Katja merely resumed her writing, the scratching of her pencil surprisingly loud among the chatter of the teenagers around them.

"That's very interesting, Hitachiin, because last I was aware, you were not the one in charge of my affairs," said Katja scathingly after several moments, not bothering to look up. Kaoru and Haruhi immediately exchanged worried glances; this was not going to have a pleasant ending.

"Doesn't matter," Hikaru countered. "I know what Kyouya told you, we all do."

"Yes, and I'm so very pleased that, once again, all anyone sees me as is a tool," she snapped, finally raising her flashing eyes to meet the redhead's own and slapping her hand down on her notebook in anger. "Thank you for reminding me."

So there it was, the reason she had been sulking and barely talking to anyone at all, save for Haruhi. Hikaru's eyebrows flew up in surprise, but Katja was already working through the next problem, and he looked to his brother and Haruhi. The latter merely shook her head and the former rolled his eyes, holding up his hands with a look that clearly said, _"Well, you asked for it."_

Several minutes passed in silence before Katja sighed heavily and dropped her pencil, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrists. "I'm so tired of people telling me what to do," she said, lowering her hands and staring at her curled fingers. "It's not you three, it's just…God, I don't even _know_ anymore. And when I thought I couldn't get any crazier…."

"Welcome to the Host Club," said Hikaru matter-of-factly, shrugging a shoulder. Katja's head tipped upwards and she stared at him as though he had just said something so rude and offensive that it had shocked her into silence. But then her lips quirked, her brow dipped, and she was laughing.

Of course, this did not go unnoticed in the otherwise quiet classroom, and every head turned towards the group to see just what was so funny. Kaoru at least had the grace to look embarrassed, whereas Haruhi looked like she was on the verge of a giggle herself and Hikaru just gaped at her like she was insane. Which, admittedly, was probably true.

From the front of the classroom, their teacher called something in Japanese (Katja wasn't sure why they bothered anymore – everyone _knew_ she wasn't there for some exchange program), probably a scold for disrupting the peace of the classroom. Katja took a steadying breath, still giggling, and turned in her chair to apologize with a grin. The teacher, a woman who looked like she was in her forties, smiled in return and slipped back behind her book as the chatter in the room returned to its normal level.

"You're too funny, Katja-chan," said Hikaru in a mocking tone once she had flipped back in her chair and picked up her pencil, which only caused her to chuckle more.

"And so are you," she retorted. "Oh, you three, where would I be without you?"

"Stuck with Milord."

Katja pulled a face, but her eyes still laughed. "Oh come on, he's not really _that_ bad…."

Kaoru and Hikaru shot her identical deadpan expressions, and she shrugged helplessly. Haruhi, on the other hand, had gone a delicate shade of pink and was staring hard down at her notebook as if she couldn't understand what was written there. And while the Hitachiin brothers appeared oblivious to this seemingly trifle occurrence, Katja was on the trail faster than a bloodhound. But, of course, she had some help.

"Well speak of the devil," she said, turning her head towards the open door, "would you look who it is. Hey, Tamaki!" She raised her hand in a small wave to the blond who was passing by in the corridor, and he came to a stop, waving enthusiastically back and smiling brightly when he spotted Haruhi and the twins. Kaoru and Hikaru waved dutifully back, and even Haruhi cupped her hand in a meek gesture. But Tamaki seemed not to notice because he slunk closer to the door and mouthed something quickly before waving again and disappearing from view.

"Eh? What'd he say?" asked Hikaru after a moment, rubbing the back of his head and causing the red tresses to spike haphazardly.

"Nothing important, just that he's going to see the director," Katja replied, and was soon met with three surprised faces. "What? You have to be able to read the lips of the conductor in a large string orchestra, otherwise he'll just end up kicking you."

Kaoru still looked puzzled. "What would Milord be seeing the director for in the middle of the day?"

"Why, other than the fact that he's is father?"

"Don't be stupid, Katja," Hikaru scoffed, shaking his head. "There has to be some other reason."

"Well," said Katja slowly, thinking, "Kyouya did say he was going to talk to the director about giving me permission to leave the school grounds, and considering Kyouya, I don't think he'd actually do it himself–"

"What d'you need to leave for?" asked the three Japanese students in unison, causing Katja's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Oh, he didn't say anything? I asked Kyouya if I…er, the Host Club _and_ I could take a trip on a boat, and he was going to ask permission to–"

"You mean like a cruise?" interrupted Kaoru excitedly.

"Uh, sure."

"A cruise?" Haruhi said, speaking at last and sounding slightly worried. "To where?"

"I hadn't really thought about that," replied Katja truthfully. "It doesn't really matter to me where the boat goes, but I've always wanted to take a 'cruise.' Ah, I've forgotten – what's the word for a large boat again?"

"_Yuuransen_?"

Katja rolled her eyes. "English, please."

"Ship?"

"Yes, that's it! Thanks…."

"A cruise_ would_ be nice," said Kaoru as he propped his elbow up on the desk and slid his chin into his palm. "It's hard to pass up a chance to get away from this place, and hey, maybe we could stop in Okinawa. You'd really love it there, Katja."

"Why, when we just got back from Christmas break," Haruhi said, her brow dipping, clearly ruffled by Kaoru's dislike of the academics.

"It's Kamura-sensei, he hates my guts and doesn't exactly make any beans about hiding it."

"Well you two _did_ fling that giant spitball in the middle of class a couple of weeks ago, and that was a bit much, even for you. I mean that thing was massive."

The two redheads smirked at each other before high-fiving loudly. "So pwn'ed."

"Anyway," interjected Katja pointedly, "as interesting as it is to hear about massive wads of spit, and I mean that in a very sincere way, we probably should finish our assignment."

"Oh dearest Katja, don't be such a party-pooper," Hikaru scolded good-humouredly, clapping her on the back and causing her to scoot her chair further away from his. "Talking about this cruise is far more important than algebra. Besides, Mutsuki-sensei is cool, right, sensei?"

"Shut up, Hikaru-kun."

"See?" He grinned at Katja and Haruhi's less than pleased faces. "Winter break is in less than two weeks, and we still don't know where we're going? Sounds like a problem to me, ladies."

"I don't even know if I'll get permission to go yet–"

"So? _We'd _still be going." He indicated his brother and Haruhi with a thumb.

"Really, Hikaru, are you asking for a punch in the stomach? You're well on your way to getting one…."

"What, are you just going to sit there?" snapped Hikaru, flashing a frown at his twin. "You're my brother – back me up or something!"

"Sorry, mate, she's got a point."

Further argument was avoided, however, when the tinny ringing of the bell sounded the end of the class period and the students surged through the door towards freedom and lunch. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, Katja purposefully smacked Hikaru in the side with her book before quickly scrambling away through the desks to avoid the retaliation. But the Hitachiin boy was known readily more for his stubbornness than his smarts, and he went after her, brandishing his notebook like a sword.

Kaoru couldn't help but chuckle as his brother took a wild swing at the German girl's head, missing by a mile as she ducked. "_She's got a mouth like Hikaru_," he remarked to Haruhi, who was still collecting her notes. "_He always talks back, but I don't think he's ever encountered someone who could rival him_."

"_I suppose, but Kaoru, shouldn't we stop them or something_?" replied the girl, brushing a strand of hair from her face and frowning slightly. "_Considering that this is Hikaru _and _Katja, it could turn nasty._"

"_Oh, yeah, right_." He looked back towards the opposite side of the room and winched outwardly. Kaoru glanced hopefully down at Haruhi. "_Back me up_?"

Her sigh was all the reply he needed.

"Oi, children! We do _not_ hurl chopsticks to solve our problems!"

* * *


	6. Like Motorcyles

**(A/N)** I love writing about Host Club shenanigans. It's so much better than real life.

* * *

_I know we've all followed a bumpy ride__  
I'm secretly on your side_

_Get me out of here.  
_

* * *

Like Motorcycles

Evening was creeping over the well-manicured lawns of Ouran High School, the sky turning pleasant watercolor shades as the sun slowly disappeared over the curved horizon. Katja stared up at the darkening expanse with a finger pulling at her lip, her feeling of foreboding increasing with every passing moment. She turned away from the picture window, twitching the curtains closed and flipping on another lamp as the last rays of light drained away. She had never been fond of the dark, and watching the sunset always made her feel lonely. Although Katja's current situation also may have helped contribute to her less-than-chipper mood.

It was Sunday, and she had spent the class-free day alone. The extra time had at first been enjoyable; Kyouya had excused her from Host Club activities (and other things that might have entailed), saying something about the dark circles under her eyes, and Katja had taken the chance to catch up on her sleep. She had lazed around in her pajamas, nibbling at the fruit that had magically appeared on her desk overnight, and when she had finally decided to shower, Katja stood under the water until it turned ice cold and caused her to leap for a towel. But after she had gotten dressed and had begun working on her leftover homework, Katja found her notebook devoid of the silly comments the Hitachiins usually scribbled on it in class and suddenly, the room seemed too quiet. And she could only think of one possible explanation for the sullen feeling that had descended upon her.

As much as Katja hated to admit it, and she _really_ hated to admit it, she was actually missing the Host Club. That pack of dribbling idiots. She was missing them. Surely, she was cracking up.

"Well damn it all," swore Katja to herself as she slid into the tassel-covered chair behind the writing desk. "I finally get some time away from them all, and I can't even enjoy it _because_ I'm away from them!" She dropped her head into her hands, staring gloomily at the inside of her eyelids. "Really, I must be insane."

Just when she was considering drawing a mural on the wall out of sheer boredom, the phone on the nightstand rang loudly. Katja jumped a foot in the air out of surprise – there were only three, maybe four, people who knew the number to her private line, and she couldn't think why Toko Fukia or the director would be calling her at this hour, and it was too early in Germany for her parents to even be awake. So that left one person….

Sliding across the floor in her socks, Katja dove for the receiver and landed on the bed in a cloud of feathers, tossed up from the down duvet. She quickly swung the phone up towards her, and smiled cheekily into the mouthpiece. "Guten Abend!"

"Guten Abend, meine schöne Freundin."

While the voice that replied was not the one she had been expecting, Katja was all the more glad for it. "I didn't know you spoke German, Kaoru."

"How'd you know it was me?" He sounded slightly crestfallen.

"Oh I didn't, it was just a guess," Katja responded, snuggling up to one of the oversized pillows and wrapping her arms around it, keeping the receiver perched between her shoulder and ear. "You won't believe how glad I am to hear your voice! I was so bored without you all today – I even walked around for an hour, trying to find the third music room, but when I finally found it the doors were locked, and– I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

Kaoru chuckled on the other end. "Nah, it's cute when you do it."

"Okay, now you're just teasing me."

"No, really – I mean, you should hear Hikaru when he gets worked up. Sounds like a three year old, and his voice gets so high, I swear, it's popped my eardrums before. But you, your eyes light up and you do this adorable little quirk with your lip. Really, as if I'd ever joke about something like _that_."

Now it was Katja's turn to laugh. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Kaoru. But let's talk about something else, like why I'm fortunate enough to be getting a call from you, and not Kyouya. I didn't think you had this number."

"I didn't until today," admitted Kaoru. "Otherwise we would've called you earlier."

"Ah, I see." Katja rolled over, twisting the phone cord around her foot as she twirled it in the air, pretending to write her name on the ceiling with her toes. "So, is there a specific reason you're calling, or are you just showing me some pity?"

"That's funny, Katja – as if I'd never be stupid enough to pity you."

"You're a lovely boy."

"But, actually, there is a reason I'm calling, and it's the reason Kyouya gave us your number in the first place. It's about the cruise…on the ship, remember?"

"Of course I remember!" said Katja excitedly, eyes widening up at the chandelier hanging overhead. "Did the director finally respond ; do I have permission?"

"Yeah, we all have permission to leave tomorrow."

"So, where're we going? I told Kyouya I didn't care where– wait, did you just say _tomorrow_?"

"'Course," replied Kaoru, sounding slightly surprised. "Milord has a bunch of meetings he can't miss the week of holiday, and the director pulled it backwards a week so he could come with. And the cruise Kyouya booked leaves tomorrow, anyway, so it worked out fine."

Katja was dumfounded. "Let me get this straight, the director just…moved the date of holiday? Why would he do that?"

"You'd understand if you had been there. You've never seen one of Milord's fits; they're really quite frightening. Besides, it's really not a big deal – it's only a week."

"All right," she sighed, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand and wondering how there was such a thing as 'only a week'. "How long are we going to be gone, when tomorrow do we leave? What should I pack? And you still haven't told me where we're going! Gah, Kaoru – why couldn't you have called me earlier?"

"Sssh, Katja, calm down," Kaoru soothed, his voice pleading. "It's all been taken care of, you don't have to worry about anything. Hikaru, Haruhi, and I will pick you up outside the main building tomorrow at eight o'clock, and Kyouya already had your parents send packed luggage directly to the liner and your ticket paid for. All you have to do is show up."

"That man," growled Katja suddenly. "Does he have to go behind my back about everything?"

Kaoru chucked again, "I'm assuming you're referring to Kyouya? He's just that way, which I suppose has its uses. Nobody else could have organized this as quickly as he did."

"I suppose," she grumbled unwilling. "But anyway, since I'm already aboard this crazy train, would you consider humoring me and actually _tell_ me where we're going?"

There was a pause on the other end of line, followed by someone murmuring in Japanese and another replying. A loud scuff to the mouthpiece on Kaoru's end nearly caused Katja to drop the phone, but the redhead came back quickly. "Sorry, Katja, I really have to go – Hikaru and I still haven't talked to our mum about this yet. We'll see you tomorrow at eight, but I'll call you in the morning anyway. Kiss yourself goodnight for us, okay? Bye!"

"Wait a second, Kaoru, you still haven't–" The line went dead with a beep. "–Told me where we're going."

Katja replaced the receiver back in its cradle, glaring at the device as though_ it_ was the thing withholding answers from her. Flopping back onto the bed, she closed her eyes as she sunk further into the fluffy blankets. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised that something like this was happening, but apparently she had not taken Kyouya's 'expect the unexpected' comment very seriously. Well she sure as hell was now. Even her parents were in on it…her bloody parents halfway across the globe….

Half a moment later, Katja sat bolt upright. Wait, had Kaoru said that her parents were sending her luggage? Her mother, who had a strangely large amount of things in common with Tamaki, and her father, who agreed with almost everything her mother said, were packing her clothes for a_ cruise_…?

"Oh, great."

She was going to have to bring extras.

* * *

The very next morning found Katja perched atop her duffle bag, stuffed with her own choice of clothing, on the frosted steps of the main Ouran building. The December wind bit angrily at her cheeks and she pulled at the sides of her woolen pea coat, buttoning the collar up to her jaw, shivering. Extracting her hand from her warm pocket, she glanced at the watch face on the studded strap: seven fifty-nine. The Hitachiins (and Haruhi) were due in one minute, and Katja prayed they would be on time – she couldn't be held responsible for her actions after that.

Well damn freedom. Damn Japan. She didn't want to go on a cruise anymore, all she wanted was a cozy blanket and some hot soup.

"_Goddamn the Host Club!"_

A dull rumbling in the distance caught Katja's ear, growing steadily louder as it approached. Peeking out of the safety of her arms, she spotted a shining black town-car through the barren trees, speeding across the grounds with two tousled, red-capped heads smiling and waving through the sunroof. Katja breathed an icy breath of relief and jumped to her feet, nearly tripping on the slick marble as she dashed down the stairs towards the (hopefully) warm car and beaming twins. The driver's door opened and a man in a suit popped out, but Katja had already taken hold of the handle and was diving into the passengers' compartment, her disappearance followed by a series of shouts and laughter. The man could only chuckle to himself; honestly, those boys had the strangest friends.

"Let me in, let me in!" Katja exclaimed as she slammed the car door, accidentally bumping her own bottom and sending herself sprawling across the seat, and incidentally, across the laps of Kaoru, Hikaru, and Haruhi. "It's so_ cold_ out there!"

"Well, why were you sitting outside then?" accused Hikaru, frowning down at her and freeing his hands of her curls. "Why not go inside?"

"Because my room is across the grounds, and the main building was locked!" she explained indignantly. "Excuse me for not wanting to make you wait."

"It's too early for fighting, you two," Kaoru groaned, rolling his eyes, and Katja replied by sliding onto the floor as the car moved forward. "Here, Katja, come sit next to me."

Once she had successfully wedged herself between Kaoru and the opposite door, she apologized profusely for her lack of grace (to which Hikaru muttered something about it being no surprise) and the three Japanese students and one German sunk into a comfortable yet sleepy silence. The ride was smooth and quiet, and it wasn't long before Katja felt her eyelids begin to droop, drowsy from the warmth of the car and fur collar on the jacket of the twin next to her. She didn't even bother to prevent her head from tipping to the side and settling into the curve of Kaoru's shoulder, murmuring another apology in German and breathing deep the familiar smell of expensive laundry detergent. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, still pink from the cold, and she was asleep.

"_That's actually a r-really good idea_," yawned Haruhi, snuggling her chin into her own coat, puffy with down. "_Wake me up when we…get there_."

"_You tired too, Kaoru_?" asked Hikaru, raising orange eyebrows at his brother, who shook his head in response. "_How come you're a morning person and I'm not? Hey, mind if I take a nap too? I won't if you want to; I'm not sleeping if she's in the car without any supervision – she'll maul me in my sleep or something_."

"_No, you can sleep_," Kaoru replied with a laugh and another shake of his head. "_And Katja's a _girl, _Hikaru, not a wolverine_."

Hikaru shrugged and leaned against the window, using his arm as a pillow and his eyes closed. "_There's no difference_."

Kaoru chuckled to himself again and turned towards the closest window, watching as the suburban landscape of apartment buildings and high-rises whipped past. Really, his brother was a confusing person. They had been together since birth, the only constant friend the other had ever had (before Haruhi, that was), and yet, Hikaru continued to change his opinions every so often. He was like…a chameleon; it was almost impossible to tell his true colors from the ones he was mimicking.

Unless you looked close enough.

Glancing down at the unconscious girl resting against his shoulder, Kaoru studied her peaceful face: the straight nose, the curved lips that were permanently turned up at the corners, and even, when he looked close enough, the sprinkle of freckles across her right cheek. Katja Goldsmith was like Hikaru in that sense; she was talented in concealing her true traits. But when she slept they shone out in her face as plain as day, and it was that hidden kindness, rubbed raw with a lifetime of pleasing others, that made Kaoru wrap his arm about her and brush his lips against her cheek.

Or maybe he just had a thing for freckles.

It wasn't long before the suburbs disappeared and were replaced by the ocean; blue waters reflecting the sun's rays back up into the gray December sky. The road towards the docks was pockmarked with rough patches, and the dozing teenagers bumped against each other, slowly shifting from their original positions. Every time the wheels hit a particularly large pothole, the car dipped sharply and Hikaru gave a loud snore, and Kaoru struggled not to laugh. After the sixth time that this happened, he lost the battle and snorted with amusement, but was joined with a breath of a chortle from his side.

"You awake, Katja?" Kaoru whispered, and he felt fingers curl and uncurl around the sleeve of his jacket.

"Barely," she replied in a voice groggy with sleep. "Hikaru's snoring woke me up; it's just too funny."

"You snore too, you know. It kept me awake."

"I most certainly do _not_ sore!" Katja hissed, opening her eyes and narrowing them up at him. Kaoru shrugged slightly and gave her shoulders a squeeze, looking back over her head and out the window, pretending to be disinterested.

"Okay, maybe it's just heavy breathing. Perfectly normal, nothing to be embarrassed about. I myself–"

"But I _don't_!" Katja had grabbed his chin with her index finger and thumb, and was tilting it downwards, forcing him to look her. "I'm not embarrassed, but you're lying. Admit it."

"Me thinks doth protest too much."

"_Kaoru_!"

"Hush, princess," the redhead whispered back, trying hard to keep from laughing at Katja's hard expression. "You want to awaken the sleeping beast?" He nodded towards his brother and she finally pulled a grimace.

"Ah. Good point." She turned her face towards the window and lapsed into silence again, and Kaoru was vaguely aware that her fingers still held the material of his jacket. Abruptly, she let out a long sigh and slumped back into her original position, her head flopping again onto his shoulder. "Are we almost there? Cars make me feel ill…."

"Not long from now, we're near the docks."

True to this statement, it was a merely fifteen minutes before the tugboats began to appear in the ocean outside the window, their piers jutting out into the water, whitecaps lapping at the hulls. The car had slowed, as to avoid the more violent bumps, and it wasn't long before the driver lowered the compartment divider and announced something in Japanese to the sleepy teens, to which Kaoru replied with something Katja didn't understand, earning himself another smile from the driver as the divider slid slowly closed. His fingers ghosted over the girl's freckled cheek, tucking a curl behind her ear, and she murmured to let him know that she was still awake.

"We're here."

Katja let out a breath of relief. "Thank God. Are you going to wake them, or should I?"

"Hang on, I'll do it. Oi, Hikaru – wake up! Haruhi! We're here, get up and get out!"

"Ugh, Kaoru, don't be so loud!"

"Oh shut up, you whiner, just get your butt out the door."

After much grumbling and cursing, the four students managed to tumble out the door to stretch and yawn in the muted sunlight. The driver was already unloading their luggage unto a brass cart that had appeared out of nowhere, talking in Japanese to a man wearing a blue suit and cap. Rubbing her eyes, Katja blinked up at the huge ship docked before them, tugboats at either end. People were milling around the dock, all wearing expensive looking coats and other cold-weather clothing, checking their tickets and passports before boarding the giant vessel that would take them across the ocean. The ship was larger than Katja could have ever imagined it would be, and there was Hikaru, standing at her shoulder and regarding it with a look of indifference.

"Eh, I've been on larger."

"Thanks, mister Kill-Joy," growled Katja, but either Hikaru was too tired to retort or had learned that arguments with her always ended in a stalemate, and he merely shrugged. "Look, I think I see Tamaki and Kyouya, oh, there's Mitsukuni and Takashi too!"

The group wasn't exactly difficult to miss, considering that said blond Host Club king was waving both hands over his head, clad in an over-stuffed and violently purple ski jacket. The Hitachiins both waved back reluctantly, and Haruhi was shaking her head. "Suppose we should…go over there?"

"Have to," replied Kaoru with a grimace. "Kyouya's got the tickets."

"So, are you finally going to tell me where we're going?" asked Katja with a frown as the group started off to join the rest of their Ouran companions. "Just in case I change my mind and decide to run or something."

"They didn't tell you?" said Haruhi incredulously, glaring angrily up at the guilty twins who could only cower under the smoldering eyes of the Third Dark Lord. "You two are unbelievable!"

"Have mercy, o' dark lord!" cried the brothers as they clung to each other. "We want to stay alive long enough to see Alaska!"

"Alaska?" repeated Katja in surprise. "We're going on a cruise to the United States?"

"Why not?" said Hikaru, recovering quickly and leaning on her shoulder. "There's icebergs and lots of snow and we'll go whale-watching. Even better, on the way back to Japan, the ship stops in Hawaii and they've got great beaches."

"But Hawaii's not exactly on the way back to Japan..."

Kaoru appeared at her other side and smirked. "Precisely."

Something uncomfortable sunk down into Katja's stomach as she was steered towards the ship, Tamaki and Mitsukuni chattering nonstop to Haruhi, not to mention that Kyouya still had that damned leather folder still under his arm. She swallowed loudly as a ticket was folded into her hand and she fumbled in her coat pocket for her passport.

What in the world had she gotten herself into?

* * *

"Haruhi? Katja?"

Kaoru stood outside the door to the girls' cabin, knocking his fist against the door. He paused, held his ear to the wood, and then knocked again when there was no sound from inside. The redhead waited, knocked, waited. Several minutes had passed, and while Hitachiin Kaoru was a patient person, even he was now becoming slightly annoyed. He was on the verge of simply walking away when a thought struck him and he pressed down on the handle, causing the door to pop open with a click.

"Hey, you know you left the door unlocked?" called Kaoru as he slipped through the door and looked around the room, only to find himself very much alone. He sighed when he saw the suitcases atop both of the beds, one nondescript and slim, the other emblazoned with Louis Vuitton logos and bulging with clothes, but neither opened nor unpacked. The cabin was identical to his and Hikaru's, save for the fact that someone had obviously been rearranging the furniture, and Kaoru only had one guess as to whom the culprit was. He walked further into the room, peering cautiously into the open washroom to find it untouched, looking for something that would give him a clue as to where his friends had disappeared. After more fruitless searching, Kaoru had given up and was about to leave when a flash of movement caught his eye and he was drawn towards the glass doors that led out onto the cabin's small balcony. He smiled when he spotted Katja through his own reflection on the glass; her back turned towards him as she leaned over the side of the balcony wall, curls rippling in the breeze.

"Katja." Kaoru knocked a finger on the door and she started, whipping around and smiling when she recognized him, moving to slide the door open and usher him out onto the balcony. "Hey. You didn't answer when I knocked."

"Oh sorry, I was out here," replied Katja, turning back to stare out over the vast ocean, stretching on forever. "It's cold, but the ocean is just so beautiful, I don't mind."

"I…suppose," Kaoru said, unsure what about the steely water and iron sky was so intriguing. "So anyway, have you seen Haruhi? I needed to tell her something."

"Mitsukuni and Takashi were here a little while ago, and they dragged her off to show her something in the kitchen. Well, more the former than the latter, but you understand," she added with a laugh as she hitched the collar of her coat higher up around her neck. "I could tell her for you when she gets back, if you want."

"Ah, that's alright," replied Kaoru a bit too quickly, waving his hands. "It's nothing important. Anyway, Katja, it's too cold to be standing out here. Hey, I made some of this great ginger tea in my cabin, you should come and have some with Hikaru and I."

"Sure, that sounds nice…my parents sent me these really good biscuits with chocolate on one side…." She trailed off, still gazing fixedly at a point over the horizon, and Kaoru thought he saw tears in her eyes, but then he blinked, and they were gone. "Kaoru, can I ask you a question without having you get mad at me?"

"Of course," he replied, surprised. "I don't think you could do anything to make me angry."

Her smile lingered for a moment and she finally turned to regard him, her face curious and her eyes warm. "Do you love Haruhi?"

"Do I love Haruhi?" Kaoru repeated, taken aback by the question. "Well yeah, she's my friend, of course I love and care about her–"

"You know I didn't mean that kind of love," Katja interrupted quietly. Kaoru stared back at her, but she remained impassive, and he found there really wasn't any other choice. He sighed and moved towards the balcony rail, gazing down over it as Katja had done as people strolled past below on lower decks.

"I forgot you wouldn't know, you weren't here yet when it happened," he said, watching a woman and her giggling daughter dash across the deck. "I did love Haruhi. I suppose I still do, but it's more admiration there than actually romantic love."

"'Did'?" Katja was beside him again, dangling her arms over the rail, and he nodded. "What changed?"

"I did something that I shouldn't have done, and it made me angry with myself. I…I decided that I wasn't good enough for Haruhi, if I could do something as cruel as I did. The will to fight for her disappeared."

"It was Hikaru, wasn't it?" said Katja softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Kaoru released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, waiting for her to put two and two together as only she could. He knew she didn't need an answer, she already knew it was true, but he gave her one anyway. And when he did, Kaoru felt something crumple within him. But Katja had already grabbed his hand, threading her icy fingers through his warm ones and giving them a comforting squeeze. Really, the intuition of a woman was an amazing thing.

"I'd always known he had liked Haruhi too, but I just hadn't realized how much. And after that…we had a fight. He wouldn't look at me for days, even though Haruhi had turned me down. I was pretty sure that she was going to, anyway – Haruhi doesn't have an awareness of that sort of thing. Even so, I couldn't help wanting to try. Anyway I told Hikaru I was willing to do what ever I could to help him win Haruhi over, but your coming here sidetracked us a little…."

Silence fell when Kaoru had finished talking, and it beat against his eardrums like the waves against the shore. Katja's face was expressionless but when she tilted her head against the wind, he saw a hurt in her eyes that had never been there before. Her eyelids fell and remained closed, her hand slightly slack against his.

"So you gave her up." The comment was stark in its reality, and the truth of it stung him. But the truth was hardly ever kind.

"Yes."

Katja sighed suddenly, sounding as though her strength had been exhausted by that single word. "Kaoru, you're the single kindest person I've ever met…but you're also the stupidest."

"Why…what're you talking about?" he spluttered, rearing back as the choler leaked into his voice, his hand still wrapped around hers. "I did what I did for my brother, so he could be happy! How is that stupid?"

"What you did was selfless, purely done out of love," Katja continued, opening her eyes and fixing him with a gaze he couldn't describe. "That is what separates you from Hikaru – you'll anything for him, and take nothing in return."

"Hikaru would do anything for me, too," Kaoru retorted sullenly.

"Maybe," she counted calmly. "But when did you stop and think about what would be good for _Haruhi_?"

When Kaoru was too stunned to reply, Katja went on, her gaze scorching. "Did you ever consider that Hikaru might not be the best thing for Haruhi right now? Did it once occur to you that Haruhi's feelings are placed _elsewhere_?"

He didn't catch her meaning immediately, but when he did, Kaoru took a step backwards, and Katja let him, dropping his hand and tucking hers into a coat pocket. He was shaking his head, biting back his laughter – it couldn't be true, it _wasn't_ true. Haruhi could never feel that way about Tamaki, no, no it was impossible…it had to be…. But when he thought about it, the way the blond and the brunette interacted, Haruhi's behavior…it was possible…it was…it was _likely_.

"Oh no. What am I going to do, what is Hikaru going to do?" His breath left him in a rush and he began chewing his nails, glaring at his sneakers as though they would give him the answers. "We only thought about Milord realizing that he loves Haruhi, we didn't…I never thought–"

"Kaoru."

"What?" he snapped, instantly regretting it. "I-I…sorry."

"It's okay," Katja replied, shaking her head gently. "I'm the one who's sorry. Sorry for springing this on you, I didn't mean to upset you. Really, I…oh, come here already."

The redhead obliged, feeling worse when Katja wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. It was only when a particularly strong wind blew past and she shuddered that Kaoru was able to bring himself to hug her in return. Where there had been hope just a moment ago, there was now something hard and bitter and completely truthful. And even though she had been the one to bring this realization upon him, Kaoru couldn't associate this pain with the girl trying very hard not to sob into his jacket. He knew he could never be angry with Haruhi, just like he could never be angry with Tamaki, regardless of what should ever happen between them. How could he hate his friends for simply feeling something more than friendship?

But Hikaru…he could.

"I understand if you're angry with me," Katja murmured after a long time of silence. "I would be. I just wanted you to know, before it was too late to go back."

"Oh it's long past that point," replied Kaoru, running a hand down her hair. "No matter what, someone's going to get hurt."

"I don't know how to treat friends," admitted Katja. "I've never had any before. All I can give you is honesty. And I think you owe the same to Hikaru."

Kaoru winced; he had been expecting that. "Do I have to do it now?"

"No, we'll wait until after the cruise, when we're back in Japan. Hikaru will need support and that's not something we can give him in the middle of the ocean. He'll need _you_, Kaoru, more than he's ever needed you before – are you ready for that?"

"Of course, I will always be there for my brother," responded Kaoru, his voice echoing with confidence. "But…what do you mean 'we'?"

Katja smiled into his shoulder. "You didn't think I was going to let you go through this alone, did you? Everyone should enjoy this peace now, and deal with the heartbreak later."

He opened his mouth, but when nothing came out, he closed it again and stared at the wall over Katja's head, knotting his hands in her hair. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me;_ I_ owe this to you." With that, she pulled back to look up into his face and smiled brightly. "Let's go back inside; my hands are so cold I think they'll soon fall off. Hmm, I wonder when we'll start seeing icebergs, I've never been to Alaska before…."

A smile crept onto Kaoru's face and he made no attempts to hide it; it was difficult to remain gloomy when Katja was there, sparkling up at him. His arms fell from around her and she turned to slip back through the glass doors, but Kaoru remained where he was, staring up at the cloudy sky. Things were going to change, and it would be his, _their_, job to make sure that these changes were for the better. But until then, they would forget and simply enjoy the warmth the friendships they had worked so hard to build. For now, it would all be fine.

"What're you still standing there for?" Katja poked her head back through the door and raised her eyebrows. "Wipe that depressed look off your face already, Kaoru, there's nothing to be worried about. Is that offer for tea still good? I have these biscuits that Hikaru will like–"

She didn't understand, she couldn't understand; she had never had friends, and the Host Club was a group of friends held up by delicate bonds that were straining to snap. But Kaoru preferred it that way and he was glad that Katja didn't know, if only to see her with that grin. And, heck, if change was inevitable, he might as well help it along.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Katja disappeared again into the cabin, and Kaoru was right behind her, taking her hand and pulling her back around, pressing his lips to her own quickly before the impulse left him. The touch lasted an instant longer than he had expected, because she didn't slap him as he thought she would. But when Katja did move away, she was laughing and he couldn't help but do the same.

"Are you sure you're Kaoru?" she said, kissing him again. He shrugged one shoulder and pulled a smirk to rival the one of his twin.

"Pretty sure."

"That's good. Now help me get my suitcase open, I think I might have broken the zipper."

And as Kaoru watched the German girl search through her things for the elusive box of biscuits, sending items of clothing flying like a cyclone, the thought crossed him that, maybe, just maybe, everything _would_ turn out alright.

* * *

**(A/N) **You know, the latest Host Club manga episodes really annoy me. Kyoya succeeds in making everything sound morbid and hopeless, and Tamaki has become _insufferably_ idiotic. It's all very annoying.


	7. One Bad Joke Too Many

**(A/N) **Writers' block, you are the bane of my existance.

* * *

_Existence isn't a joke_

_The tank is overflowing, about to explode._

* * *

One Bad Joke Too Many

Late afternoon found Katja lying on her stomach in an almost obscenely comfortable king-size bed in the cabin she shared with Haruhi, flipping through one of the books about French romanticism that her parents had sent her. The words on the cream-colored page blurred before her eyes and her eyelids threatened to fall, but Katja rubbed at them furiously with her wrists, smiling contently all the while. After giving herself a scolding, she flipped the book closed and pressed her face into the fresh white duvet, breathing in the sharp smell of soap mingling with the salt that clung to just about every thing exposed to the sea air. The thought brought another grin to her face, for the umpteenth time that day.

Despite the slight hitch with Kaoru concerning the future of his twin, Haruhi, and the Host Club king, the cruise had begun on a surprisingly smooth note. The ship was mind-bogglingly extravagant, and while Katja had certainly seen her share of the folly that is created by wealthy people with too much time, she had never seen anything like _this_. She could only compare the interior of the ship to that of Buckingham Palace, or perhaps the Taj Mahal. Marble staircases, rich wood, chandeliers dangling with diamonds, corridors lined with golden vines, the décor threatened to cross the thin line between the beautiful and the vulgar. And then there was the Host Club, fitted almost too perfectly among the parade of well-to-do aboard the vessel, whereas Katja just did her best to survive.

After Kaoru had dragged her off to sip tea with his brother, the three had rejoined the rest of their Ouran companions and had set off on a tour about the ship, which had unsurprisingly, considering the sheer size of the route, taken up most of the day. All of the teenagers had been exhausted, save for Tamaki whose fervor seemed to be everlasting, barely capable of keeping their heads from landing in the bowls of clam chowder, which they had been served in the restaurant said blond bombshell had dragged them into. This event had triggered a rather frightening Dark Lord Number One attack (as the Hitachiins had so fearfully stammered), resulting in Kyouya storming out and Tamaki chasing after him, which left the remaining students to wander half-awake back to their cabins and beds. And while Katja had located both, she was now struggling to stay awake as she waited for Haruhi to finish in the shower.

Upon hearing the quiet scrape of the washroom door over the carpet, Katja to straightened suddenly from her hunched position, succeeding in causing Haruhi to gasp in surprise and clutch the bundle of towels in her arms to her chest. But she relaxed before Katja could apologize and began folding her towels, murmuring that she was finished in the bathroom. Katja watched Haruhi in her movements for a moment more before deciding that her bladder would have to wait – something was clearly amiss here.

"Haruhi?" began Katja quietly as the girl continued to smooth out the creases in the towels. "Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit…distracted."

The brunette paused, her hands hovering inches above the towels. She seemed about ready to give the generic reply of, "No, I'm fine, it's just a headache", when she gave an abrupt sigh and sat down atop the towels she had just finished perfecting.

"I am what you could say 'distracted'," Haruhi said, sounding rather glum. "I can't figure out why, though; the doctor says there's nothing wrong with me, and Mei isn't any help at all. She only complicates things with her silly magazines and manga."

Without having any idea who or what "_Mei_" and "_manga_" were, Katja rolled off her bed and made her way towards Haruhi's, sitting beside her petite friend and smiling kindly. "I've never had any real friends before, Haruhi, so I don't know what it's like. But if you feel like sharing–"

"Yes, that's a great idea!" she exclaimed and her brown eyes lit up at her own prospect. "You're just as smart as I am – maybe you could figure it out."

"Uh, I could try, sure," Katja shrugged. She hadn't actually been offering her help, but she couldn't turn away Haruhi when she was looking so thoroughly miserable. "What's up?"

"Well, at first I thought I just had a cold," Haruhi explained. "I always had a stomach ache, a headache, and a fever. But when I finally went to my doctor, she said I was completely healthy." She paused here, rubbing the back of her head with a hand nervously. "It's strange though; I felt fine at the hospital, and I feel fine right now, but whenever the Host Club is all together, it comes back."

At this point, Katja's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into her hair. She hoped this wasn't where she suspected it was going…. "What do you mean?"

"Is it possible to be allergic to a person?"

"'Allergic to a person'?" repeated Katja questioningly, and Haruhi nodded. "I don't know, maybe."

"Hmm, maybe I should go back to the doctor. I think I may be allergic to Tamaki-senpai." It was a good thing that she chose this moment to lean forward and wrap her arms around her knees, because otherwise she would have seen Katja's completely dumbstruck expression. "Yes, that's what I'll do…."

"Why…why d'you think you're allergic to him?" Katja managed to say after composing herself and pushing her jaw back into its proper position.

"Whenever he's around, I feel feverish, or like I just ate some bad salmon," continued Haruhi, frowning slightly. "And Mei-chan gave me this funny magazine, you see, and it said that I might be…might be…in _love_ with Tamaki-senpai. But that can't be true…can it?"

Haruhi had unknowingly just led the conversation in extremely dangerous territory. Katja suddenly felt as though the walls on either side of them were pushing closer and closer, and she was well aware of her now brilliantly red face. What could she say? _She_ knew that there was more fact than fiction to the "love-theory" Haruhi was currently pondering, but she had also promised Kaoru that they would leave the subject where it was until after the cruise. But Katja had also come to realize something else, something about Kaoru that he hadn't told her but had hinted at. Well, when she thought about it, it wasn't more of what he _hadn't_ told her, but what he _had_.

Kaoru had admitted during their conversation that he had been trying to help Hikaru bring Haruhi's true feelings to the surface, in hopes of assisting his twin in winning the girl over. And while he and Katja had both agreed to drop the subject until they were back in Japan, he hadn't told her that he would stop his efforts with Hikaru. Katja had to admit, while Kaoru had seemed genuinely concerned about Haruhi's well-being, she couldn't help but suspect that he would be willing to push that limit for his brother.

Considering this, Katja was left in a very interesting situation. She had several options, one of which being that she could point Haruhi in the proper direction regardless of her agreement with Kaoru, two being that she could point the girl in the direction of Hikaru, and three being that she could say nothing altogether. And while three was quickly becoming the most desirable option, it wasn't exactly the easiest to execute. Especially when Haruhi was watching her with huge, expectant eyes.

"Well, I certainly don't think you're allergic to Tamaki," Katja began slowly, "but I'm not sure if you're in love with him either. I don't know anything about love, trust me, but I do know something about people and it's that people almost never have feelings rooted in nothing. If you did maybe love him, it wouldn't be out-of-the-blue – there would have to be some…some reason for it."

"A r-reason?" stammered Haruhi, looking thoroughly horrified now.

"But like I said, I don't know!" added Katja hastily, waving her hands erratically. Haruhi said nothing, turning away from her on the bed and pressing her face into her knees, looking even more depressed than before. Just as Katja was beginning to feel the blood drain from her face, there was a knock at the door and she sprung up to answer her saving grace. But when she pulled the door open and saw who was standing there, Katja was sure she had turned the exact same shade as parchment.

"Hey, Katja!" greeted Tamaki cheerily, flipping blond hair from his eyes and causing Katja's jaw to drop so low she thought it might hit the floor. "I was wondering if you and Haruhi were up to a walk around the deck? You know what they say, there's nothing better for the lungs like fresh salt air!" At this, he thumped his blazer-clad shoulder proudly.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki, but I really don't think now is the best time," replied Katja, slowly edging the door closed. "You see, uh, Haruhi isn't feeling very good and–"

"WHAT?" The blond had forced his way into the room before she could even react, whipping his head from side to side manically. "My daughter, ill? Where is she, where is she? Daddy will make it all bett–AH, Haruhi!"

It was then that Katja spotted the poor girl, her eyes peeking out over the side of the bed before ducking quickly down. But it was too late, and it only took a moment for Tamaki to appear on his knees beside her, holding a hand against her forehead and causing a wave of scarlet to wash over her face. Katja stood rooted to the spot, her hand still on the door handle; what was she going to do _now_?

"Oh Haruhi, you have a fever! Do you want to go to the infirmary, or maybe you'd like Daddy to fetch you some soup?"

"N-no, I'm f-fine!" Haruhi stammered, launching herself away from the blond and backing up against the wall. But it was in the brief pause between Haruhi's outburst and when Tamaki rose unsteadily to his feet that Katja saw her chance and sprung into action. She rushed towards the pair and grabbed Tamaki's arm and forced him to look at her.

"Please, Tamaki, I know you mean well, but, uh…." Katja glanced at Haruhi for support, but the girl was staring at her feet, beginning to actually look sick now. "It's just, uh, female trouble! Yeah, yeah, that's it."

While any normal person would have seen through this obvious lie, Souh Tamaki was not a normal person and bought it completely. Well, almost completely.

"Female…trouble?" he repeated, his brow dipping in question. For an instant, Katja wondered if the phrase didn't translate, but then remembered that if it wasn't stated in black and white, Tamaki wouldn't comprehend. But no way was _that_ going to happen, even if it was a lie.

"It's just something that happens…to girls, and boys don't need to talk about it!" Katja managed, wanting to shake the confused expression right off the Host Club king's perfect face. "Haruhi is fine, it's nothing to worry about, and I'm taking perfectly good care of her. Now, Tamaki, get out."

"Wha–"

"GET OUT!"

Apparently he didn't need telling a third time, and scampered from the room, but his footsteps stopped as soon as he had vanished through the door. Katja heaved a sigh and pulled her hair back from her face, knotting it with an elastic tie and feeling increasingly like a nanny for spoiled children. Which, in reality, was partly true. After she had succeeded in peeling Haruhi from the drywall, she helped the girl climb into her pajamas and then under the bed covers, pulling the duvet all the way up to her chin and checking her temperate against her own with the back of a hand. While her cheeks had lost their previously flushed complexion, she was still rather warm and had no qualms about resting in the comfortable bed.

"Is there anything you want, Haruhi?" asked Katja, genuinely concerned; she had seen girls become flustered over crushes before, but this was completely foreign.

"No, really," Haruhi replied, closing her eyes and her face became content. "I think I just need to sleep for a bit."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"N-no! If you don't go, he'll stand out there for the rest of the day! I can't…with him there…."

"I understand," said Katja, smiling reassuringly down at Haruhi's now wide eyes. "Don't worry, Haruhi, I'll make sure he stays far away. Are you sure there isn't anything else you need?" When she shook her head, Katja leaned over and switched off the lamp on the nightstand, bathing the cabin in the sunlight filtering through the glass balcony doors. Glancing towards the opposite end of the cabin, she bit her lip, struggling to push what had transpired between her and the Hitachiin not long ago from her mind.

"Hey, Katja?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you."

Biting down on her lip with painful pressure, Katja turned her head quickly back towards the ill Japanese student; thankful that Haruhi's eyes were closed and she couldn't see the rather incriminating expression she was wearing.

"No problem. And don't worry, Haruhi, it'll all get better soon. I promise."

* * *

"_Milord! What the hell is going on_?"

The blond turned his head against the wall to look back up the corridor, from where two identical figures were dashing towards him. Their sneakers squeaked loudly on the floor as they skidded to a halt, earning a disapproving glare from an older woman who was passing in the opposite direction, leaning farther away and picking up speed. Hikaru shot her a glare, but when Kaoru pinched his side (rather hard), he swung his gaze back around to a rather dazed-looking Tamaki.

"_We heard shouting_," explained Kaoru, pointing a finger towards the closed door just behind Tamaki. "_Is everything alright? We're assuming that it was Katja doing the yelling, right_?"

"_Yeah, yeah,_" murmured Tamaki. "_Haruhi is feeling ill, but she made me leave, for some strange reason_."

The Hitachiins exchanged a quick glance. "_Who, Haruhi_?"

"_No. Katja_."

"_Why would she do that_?" Hikaru wondered aloud. "_I mean, we all know she's a royal pain in the ass, but she's not a total jerk…all the time, anyway. She knows we care about Haruhi – what gives her the right to keep us out_?"

"_Calm down, Hikaru_," Kaoru scolded, shooting his brother a frown. "_I'll pull out the stopwatch, and don't think I won't. Milord._" After Hikaru had muttered something about him being an insensitive bastard, his voice returned to its usual tone as he addressed the host king. "_Did Katja give reason as to why she was booting you out_?"

"_She did…it was something about 'female trouble_,'" Tamaki replied, his brow creasing in thought. "_But I haven't the slightest clue what that could mean_."

At this, Hikaru slapped his forehead and Kaoru couldn't help but laugh as he shook his head in disbelief. "_That's…that's nothing, Milord. Haruhi is completely fine_."

"_But I'm surprised; I thought you would have gone crashing back through the door by now._"

"_She's very scary when she's serious_," replied Tamaki in a low voice, and he shuddered at the memory. There were no questions about which _she_ he was referring to. "_And I've been feeling rather dizzy, actually, from worrying about Haruhi. Oh, I hope she gets better soon! This cruise won't be any fun without her_…."

Noting the plump tears welling in his violet eyes, the twins both took quick steps backwards, but the opening of a cabin door behind Tamaki resulted in a halt of all further action. The three Japanese students stood stock still as Katja slipped through the door and closed it behind her, sighing and casting a curious look around at them.

"What?"

"Haruhi, how is Haruhi?" exclaimed Tamaki abruptly, wasting no time in pouncing on the German, his face inches from hers. To her credit, Katja managed to control her reaction and flinched instead of shoving the blond backwards into the wall, as per reflex.

"Haruhi's fine," she replied, sounding slightly annoyed. "I already _told_ you that."

"Yes, but you sounded so serious," continued Tamaki, his hands still clamped about her shoulders. "And then with this…female trouble, you quite scared me!"

"Female what? Haruhi doesn't have–…oh yeah, uh, like I said, it's all good."

While Tamaki looked as though he could have kissed her full on the mouth from sheer relief (he had never been kept away from his daughter before), Hikaru and Kaoru were nowhere as oblivious; they both knew she had been lying. But whereas Hikaru was left wondering why this had been necessary, Kaoru had a hunch and was now watching her with an air of suspicion.

"So, can I see her?" Tamaki asked excitedly, peering at the door over Katja's shoulder.

"She's asleep, Tamaki, and I think you should just leave her be," was the quiet reply. "Some silence would make all the difference."

"Oh, okay," he seemed crestfallen, but brightened almost immediately. "You never said if you'd come walk on the deck. Would you, please? The ocean is so beautiful at this time of day!"

"Fine, fine," agreed Katja after a moment of thought. She turned towards the Hitachiins, her face hopeful. "Fancy some air?"

"Why not," they replied with uniform shrugs. After fetching their jackets, the four teens ambled down the corridor, Tamaki in the lead, followed by a humming Katja, with Hikaru and Kaoru bringing up the rear. Truth be told, the only person who actually wanted to stroll on the deck was Tamaki; it was rather cold and there wasn't much to see in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Katja had agreed because she couldn't risk hanging around Haruhi any longer, Kaoru had agreed because he knew that Katja was lying and intended to find out why, and Hikaru had agreed because he could tell that there was something strange between his brother and the German. Something his brother _had not_ told him about, which was maddening enough itself for Hikaru to be determined to find out what it was.

The deck was unsurprisingly deserted when the teens had finally managed to battle their way through the crowded lounges and out the doors. Emerging onto the portside veranda, Katja was greeted by a cold blast of air that blew her scarf into her face and caused her to stumble blindly into Kaoru. He wordlessly caught her arm and steadied her while she yanked her scarf back into place, blushing furiously and mumbling an apology.

"Why even bother?" said Hikaru, regarding the girl's red face with a look of indifference. "You're such a clutz, we really don't expect anything else."

At this, Katja flinched visibly before turning on her heel, grabbing Tamaki's arm and giving it a sharp tug. "Come on, Tamaki, let's go look at the…the, ah, propellers!"

When she took off, nearly dragging the blond down the deck towards the prow, Kaoru rounded on his twin, looking furious. Hikaru merely raised an eyebrow.

"_What_?"

"_What d'you mean, 'what'_?_'_" snapped Kaoru, jabbing his brother's chest with a finger. "_You know exactly what_!"

"_No, I really don't, Kaoru_. _Please, enlighten me_."

"_Why'd you have to say that to Katja_?" Kaoru demanded. "_She's trying, Hikaru, so you don't have to be such a _jerk_ about it! Give her a break, why don't you_?_"_

Hikaru huffed and rolled his eyes. "_Only when she gives me one_," he scoffed. "_Why do you care, anyway, Kaoru? It's not like _I_ know why she ran off. Maybe you can tell me_."

"_What_?" Kaoru backpedaled. "_Why would I know? You're the one who_–"

"_I'm not a total idiot, Kaoru_," cut in Hikaru, narrowing his eyes, "_I know there's something going on that you're not telling me about_!"

"_I don't_–"

"_Yes, you do_!" Hikaru shouted suddenly, grabbing his brother's shoulders and giving them a small shake. "_I know when you're lying, idiot! How many times do I have to tell you_?" He shook his head and touched his forehead to Kaoru's, closing his eyes and lowering his voice. "_Why did Katja lie about Haruhi being ill? Why do you keep giving her these glances out of the corner of your eye? And why does she look so goddamn _guilty?"

"_Guilty_?" repeated Kaoru, looking questioningly at Hikaru's eyelids.

"_Yeah, she wouldn't stand within ten feet of you before, and when she bumped into you, she blushed ten shades of scarlet,_" Hikaru replied, eyes fluttering open in surprise to stare into an identical amber pair. "_You didn't notice_?"

"_No_," Kaoru said truthfully, dropping his gaze to the sneakers touching his. "_I didn't_."

There was a pause, punctuated only by the sounds of the ocean.

"_So, what, is there…really nothing going on_?"

Kaoru didn't answer immediately, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn't tell Hikaru the truth, about any of it, not only because it would break his heart, but also because he didn't know what _was_ the truth anymore. He didn't know who to support: Hikaru, Tamaki, neither? Then there was Katja, completely nonchalant one moment and unable to form a sentence the next. And had his watching her really been _that_ obvious?

Kaoru winched inwardly. Probably.

All of this left Kaoru with only one option; he was going to have to ask Katja, bluntly and directly, what her opinions were, on Haruhi, on Tamaki, on Hikaru, on him. He wasn't going to waste his time beating around the bush, he'd never get an answer from her if he didn't. But, until then, he was going to have to Hikaru _something_. He deserved that at least.

"_It's nothing_," Kaoru said quietly, unable to look at his brother. "_She knows about Haruhi and Milord…and you_."

"_You told her?_"

"_She figured it out. She's not stupid_."

"_I know, but what does she think? Is she going to help me – I mean, you're helping me, so why wouldn't she_?"

"_I don't know what Katja thinks, Hikaru_."

It was only half of a lie, Kaoru rationalized. He had no idea about what went on in Katja's head, he didn't know why she was acting strangely, but something told him that, when the time came, she was going to support her own beliefs, even if no one else shared them. And he simply couldn't tell his brother that. It cast doubt on his plan.

"_You know what, Kaoru_," said Hikaru abruptly, tipping his head upwards and staring at the blackening sky above them. "_Katja is a lot like Haruhi. She's got a big brain in her, she just…doesn't know how to use it_."

Kaoru could only nod weakly in agreement. Hikaru had no idea.

"_So, where d'you think those two idiots ran off to_?"

* * *

After barely several minutes of searching, the Hitachiins located Katja, Tamaki, and the rest of the Host Club (save for Haruhi) in the ship's observation lounge that was conveniently located at the prow of the ship, nestled happily in armchairs and sipping mugs of hot chocolate. It was safe to say that the twins were less than pleased when they discovered that they had been left in the cold while their companions had enjoyed warm beverages and the large array of sweets that was spread out over the coffee table.

"You could've at least told us you were going inside," grumbled Kaoru as he rubbed his hands, pink from the cold.

"Well I was going to tell you to come, but you seemed a bit…preoccupied," Katja replied offhandedly. When Kaoru shot her a questioning look, she dropped her head, suddenly very interested in the hem of her sweater. "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Hikaru said, waving it off with a hand. "Now where'd you all get that hot chocolate…?"

After they had been supplied with the requested drink, Hikaru and Kaoru settled themselves on the carpet, leaning against Katja's legs in a rather cat-like manner (for which they received simultaneous hair-rufflings) while Kyouya adjusted his glasses and flipped open the notebook in his lap.

"Now that we've all decided to present ourselves," he began, looking pointedly at the Hitachiin twins over his frames, for which he received indignant glares.

"We can began the first Host Club meeting of winter break!" finished Tamaki excitedly, clapping his hands against his chest and causing Kyouya to roll his eyes at the ceiling. "Although, this doesn't feel right without Haruhi here…."

"Tama-chan is right," said Mitsukuni mournfully, looking extremely pitiful as he plucked sugared plums from a bowl. "I hope Haru-chan feels better soon."

"She won't mind," Kyouya replied. "In fact, she'll most likely be grateful that we did this without her if she'll feeling ill."

"Which she is!" added Katja hastily.

"Whatever. Moving on. We don't have very much time, so we need to begin immediately. Some basic announcements first off: if you have problems with your stateroom, I don't want to hear about it so deal with it yourselves. Tamaki, if you disturb my nap one more time because you can't figure out how to turn on the shower, I'll stitch your lips together."

"He means he'll _hire_ someone to stitch Milord's lips together…."

"Shut up, Hikaru. Also, please make a point to thank Charlotte and Daniel for booking these tickets for us."

"Wait, what?" spluttered Katja. "My parents paid for this?"

"They offered," Kyouya replied simply, sending her a knowing smirk. "And while we're on the topic of the Goldsmiths, Katja, I'm excusing you from etiquette for the duration of this cruise."

"Oh Kyouya, thank you! I don't think I could–"

"You will make these up when we return to Japan, of course," he added as the smile slid from Katja's face. She leaned back in her chair with an irritated huff, crossing her arms and chewing her lip angrily while the redheads below her snickered.

"Don't sulk, it's unbecoming," admonished Kyouya. "Next. Activities. The ship won't be docking in Alaska for at least three more days, but luckily this liner has a wide range of things to keep us busy in the meantime. I have a schedule for each of you of all the activities and events that will be held through the duration of this cruise." He slipped a stack of papers from his notebook and began passing the sheets out to their respectable hosts. "You may attend what you choose, or you can sit around and do nothing, I honestly don't care. Oh, and Katja, here's one for Haruhi."

"Ceramics, culinary arts, theater history, what is this, primary school?" inquired Kaoru, frowning as his eyes moved down the paper.

"_This_ is also an excellent opportunity to expand some of our members' limited horizons."

"Hey, wot's zis thin' scheduled fer tomorra'?" said Hikaru through a mouthful of vanilla croissant. After a glare from Katja, he swallowed. "Social gala?"

"Exactly what the name suggests," Kyouya replied, earning himself identical contemptuous looks. "A ball for all the ship's guests, black tie event. That is the only event you are _required_ to attend. It should be a good chance to meet all the CEOs currently aboard."

"You are one seriously screwed up individual," Kaoru remarked with a shake of his head.

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

"Have you two switched personalities?" Katja hissed, leaning forwards in the space between the twins' heads. "Hikaru, what've you done to your brother?"

"Dunno," shrugged the older boy with a small smirk. "Me thinks it's the hormones."

"Shut up, Hikaru," growled Kaoru, much to Hikaru's amusement. After putting up with his brother's "temper-exercises", it felt good to have something to bait him with.

"Well, that concludes this little session," interrupted Kyouya, standing swiftly and tucking his notebook under his arm. "Meet tomorrow before the gala in the first class lounge at seven o'clock, and for God's sake, Katja, remember to brush out your hair. Oh by the way, there's someone here to see you."

Before she could inquire as to what the _hell_ he was talking about, a loud screech closely followed by the clatter of high-heels on the wood floor caused all six of the teens to jump a foot in the air. Before Katja knew what was happening, pair of slim arms had wrapped around her shoulders from behind and were doing their best to strangle the life out of her.

"Katja, Katja Goldsmith!" squealed the blond girl attached to the arms. "It's so good to see you again, I can't believe we're on the same cruise!"

"Gah, A-annemaria! C-can't breathe…need oxygen!"

"Kat-chan, your face is turning blue!"

"Ah, I'm sorry!" exclaimed the girl, releasing Katja and springing back while the German gasped at the air, a hand at her neck. It was only a moment before Tamaki had leapt into action, holding her tight to his chest while Hikaru and Kaoru whipped around to accost the girl.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Kaoru, pointing a finger very close to the girl's nose. The poor thing looked about ready to cry when Katja managed to choke out an explanation.

"Calm down, you two, this is Annemaria Leterme," she said, not bothering to resist Tamaki while he was in father-mode. "She's the…daughter of the prime minister of Belgium, Yves Leterme, who I've…been commissioned for many times. She's harmless. Friendly, but harmless."

"Oh Katja, I really am sorry!" gasped Annemaria, her French accent particularly obvious now, her eyes brimming with tears. "Dieter pointed you out and I just got so excited I-I couldn't help myself. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just…try and control yourself next time."

"Will do," Annemaria chirped, snapping her heels together and saluting. But her smiled faltered when she fell back under the scorching gaze of the Hitachiin twins, and she fidgeted nervously with the ribbon in her hair. "So, uhm, what're you doing on this cruise? And who are your friends?"

"It's winter break, and we, uh, decided to take a trip," Katja replied as she watched Annemarie slide slowly towards her chair again. "And this is the Host Club. They're my…tutors, if you will. This is Tamaki Souh, or as he likes to be referred to, Papa, those two glaring at you are Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin, be careful they bite, and the two lovely boys over there are Takashi Morinozuka and Mitsukuni Haninozuka. Don't let the innocent faces fool you. And Tamaki, could you let go of me please, my leg is cramping."

"Oh yes, I remember," murmured Annemaria, smoothing her thumb over her lip thoughtfully. "You're attending that Ouran high school. You don't speak Japanese, do you?"

"What, how did you know that?"

"Your parents told my mum. She and Dieter are here as well. But I don't really know how we ended up in Japan, though; I think it had something to do with my dad…but whatever! It's just so cool that we're both here on the same cruise, at the same time, and in the same place! Talk about coincidence, huh."

"Yeah, how about that one," Katja muttered darkly, sliding onto the floor and allowing Tamaki to occupy the chair, thinking of one black-haired shadow king who had mysterious vanished. She twisted around to smile back up at Annemaria. "Want some hot chocolate? They make it really good here."

After Katja had convinced Hikaru and Kaoru to sit back on the carpet besides her, Annemaria took her place in the armchair Tamaki had deserted, sipping her own mug of chocolate and ruffling Mitsukuni's golden locks. Katja had to admit, as annoying as she found Annemaria Leterme, it was good to see someone from her childhood, someone who reaffirmed that a world beyond Japan really _did_ exist, that her clients hadn't forgotten her and that she would indeed have a life to go back to in Europe. And while Katja didn't consider the primer minister's daughter a friend, they knew enough about each other to irritate two certain redheads, who had been previously convinced that they were her _only_ friends.

"So, uh," began Katja, feeling slightly awkward, "how is everything back home?"

"Everything's fine," replied Annemaria with a graceful wave of her hand. "We're actually visiting our estate on Prince William Sound, for Dieter's birthday." She paused, her eyes sparkling over the top of her mug. "Where are you all headed, anywhere special?"

"No, I don't think–"

"Annemaria. I thought you were going to come right back."

While the heads of five hosts and one muse all whipped around, Annemaria merely rolled her eyes and extended a hand backwards towards the young man who had appeared silently behind her chair. "You don't need to look after me, Dieter, I'm a big girl now."

"Yes, but you'll forget where the cabin is if I don't show you."

At this, Annemarie turned bright pink and sprung up from her chair before realizing that she had an audience and quickly composed herself, still blushing furiously. "You remember Katja, right, Dieter?"

Dieter arched a dark eyebrow. "I pointed her out, didn't I?"

"I-I…yes, you did. And Katja, you r-remember my brother?"

"Guten Abend, Dieter," greeted Katja, making a small wave but no other movement to get up or to shake his hand. "Happy early birthday. How old will you be now, thirty?"

"Afraid not. Only seventeen for me."

At first glance, it was difficult to see how Annemaria and Dieter Leterme possibly could have been siblings. They were polar opposites, but when joined together, they balanced each other almost perfectly and became quite the dangerous duo. Where Annemaria was outgoing and overtly eccentric, almost always clad in some sort of pastel clothing, Dieter was reserved and quiet, preferring darker shirts and pants, transforming him into a dark blob that walked hand in hand with a splotch of watercolor. Annemaria knew people, Dieter knew academics, but as children of a prime minister, they both knew their politics, which made Katja slightly wary of the idea that they might be pawns in some scheme of Kyouya's. It surely was no coincidence that she was on the same cruise as the family of the prime minister of Belgium, who also happened to be one of her most frequent clients.

Yes, the connection between her parents, Kyouya, and that stupid leather portfolio was becoming obnoxiously clear to Katja, which is why she wasn't too surprised at what Dieter said next.

"I understand that you'll be staying near Valdez," said Dieter, his handsome face expressionless. "My mother has told me to invite you and your friends to our estate on the Sound, where we'll be having a party for my birthday. She's also willing to pay commission price if you'd be so obliged as to play your cello for my guests. We really do love hearing your music, you know."

"Are you asking me, Dieter, or has it already been agreed to?" replied Katja coolly, despite the hand that was squeezing hers rather tightly. A sly smile crept across the boy's dark face, and he nodded.

"My mother _did_ say something about a charming Japanese student with glasses and a marvelous accent…."

"Well that means it's already been arranged."

"I'm terribly sorry, Katja, if this was done without your consent. I understand if you would rather not."

"Oh don't kid yourself, Dieter, your family has always been generous," said Katja with a smile. "I would be delighted to play at Sofie's request."

"Thank you," Dieter replied with another sly smile as he took his sister's arm. "It will make the event all the more interesting. I'm sorry to drag Annemaria away so quickly, but we have lessons to finish. We hope to see you at the gala tomorrow, Katja."

"It was good to see you again!" called Katja as Dieter led Annemaria towards the door, waving over his shoulder. When they had gone from sight, an uncomfortable silence fell over the hosts, all of whom were staring at Katja. She looked around at them with a slight frown, getting the feeling that she had just missed something.

"What?"

"Uh, Takashi, Usa-chan and I are suddenly very tired and are going to go to bed!" announced Mitsukuni abruptly; bouncing off his chair and steering his taller cousin towards the door, the way Annemaria and Dieter had recently gone. "We'll see you all in the morning!"

"And I just remembered that I have some very important paperwork to finish!" Tamaki exclaimed, startling Katja with his outburst, as he had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the evening. He stood and stretched quickly, bending over and brushing a kiss over Katja's forehead before bounding off, making a beeline for the exit. "Sweet sleep, my daughter!"

There was a pregnant pause, in which all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and the muted voices of the other guests in the lounge. Katja cocked her head to the side and ran a hand through her hair.

"Well that was weird."

"Weird, _weird_?" repeated Kaoru, voice rising in anger, his hand still wrapped around Katja's. "As if having those two Belgium kids come over here and act like they're freaking royalty, demanding your attention and ignoring the rest of us, _wasn't_ weird? And you, letting them!"

Katja's jaw quirked to the side, her brow dipped. Hikaru winched outwardly for his brother; _he_ knew what was coming. Unfortunately, however, Katja had never seen Kaoru angry, and Kaoru, well, he'd never been on the receiving end of one of her punches. Sure, Hikaru also wasn't exactly pleased about what had just transpired, and he knew that if Kaoru weren't already throwing a fit about, he would have been. All the same…this was a worrying situation.

"What're you talking about, Kaoru? They're people I've known for a long time, and they've never shown me anything but kindness. Okay, yeah, they may be a bit strange, but that doesn't mean they don't warrant the same respect they show me."

Hikaru raised a rust-colored eyebrow; he was impressed that Katja had been able to keep her voice steady so far. But he knew it wouldn't be long before Kaoru said something that would send her off.

"So just because you knew them back in _Europe_, they're more of friends to you than we are?"

And there it was.

"Excuse me?" snapped Katja, her cheeks flaming pink. "When did I ever suggest that? That is the most ridiculous thing I have yet heard from your mouth, Kaoru Hitachiin. I'll have you know that the Letermes are not my friends, and never will be, because when your welfare depends on the people you know and the smiles you can put on, you _never_ make any real friends. I thought you, of all people, would have been able to understand that."

Katja's voice softened as she spoke this last sentence, and Kaoru could sense that something had changed, that she had unknowingly led herself into sensitive territory. He slackened his grip on her hand but she didn't slide it away, allowing his fingers to rest over hers. There was something eerily familiar about the situation….

"Katja, I'm sorry," murmured Kaoru with his eyes on his knees. "But it's like you said; when the only faces you wear are false ones, how can you tell which one is real?"

"I didn't say that."

"I just…I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't worry," she said quietly, leaning forwards and touching her forehead to his. "I've been stung by the bee so many times, I simply don't feel it anymore."

"That's a stupid metaphor, Katja."

"Yeah, I know."

With that, she pulled away and got to her feet, leaving a gap between the two twins, who glanced at each other quickly. "Well, I'm going to see how Haruhi's feeling and then go to bed myself. I can't believe how much crap we have to do – I thought this was supposed to be holiday. Goodnight, you two."

After kissing both Kaoru and Hikaru on the cheek, she turned and left the lounge, her boots squeaking after her on the wood floor. Several moments passed before Hikaru whistled low, tipping his head back against the cushion of the chair behind him and fixing the ceiling with a glare.

"_D'you think God hates us or something, having stuck us with possibly two of the most unobtainable girls in the world_?"

Kaoru couldn't help but roll his eyes at his older brother. "_I have no idea_."

* * *

**(A/N) **Well, that sucks for those guys. And it's even suckier because I control their fates. Heh heh.


	8. The Woods

**(A/N) **It's AP test week, and I therefore credit my aversion to doing anything_ but_ studying to the eighty-one dollars I invest in each of those tests.  
Many thanks for your continued support and love.

* * *

__

But I guess that's your lot  
When you're after such a well-made lock

Who was classically trained to give up.

* * *

The Woods

"You're doing it wrong."

"What, again?"

"Yeah, you're trying too hard to mold the clay; all you have to do is guide with your hands and the wheel will do the rest of the work. Try again."

Haruhi grinned and nodded with the determination that had returned along with her heath, dunking her hands in the bucket on the floor beside her and succeeding in splashing water over her sandals. Pressing down on the pedal once more, she bent over the pottery wheel, slick clay oozing through her fingers as she attempted for the third time to turn the lump of earth into a bowl. While Fujioka Haruhi may have been gifted with academic intelligence, she was under par when it came to creating something with not only her mind, but her body.

"You're doing better, Haruhi," praised Katja, watching with pride as she cupped her hands around the clay and shaped it into a globe. "Now stick your thumbs in the center and spread them slowly outwards. Slower, slower…that's it, now just keep shaping that and it'll turn out perfect."

She smiled and turned back to her own wheel, upon which a goose-necked vase already sat. Wetting her hands again, Katja smoothed her palms over the clay, erasing creases and uneven lines with her fingertips, carefully shaping the curves before wiping her hands on her already dirtied pants. Across from her, Kaoru gave an agitated sigh and crossed his arms over his own clay-smeared smock, watching the German girl work with a frown that matched the one of his twin beside him.

"Why d'you have to be good at everything?" huffed Kaoru as he poked the lump of shapeless clay sitting on his own wheel with a finger.

"_Normal_ people have to practice to become good at anything," added Hikaru, leaning towards his twin and drawing an unhappy-looking face in the clay, as his own was on the floor in a wet heap.

"I just always been good at working with my hands," Katja replied, straightening up and pushing a strand of hair from her face, succeeding in wiping a brown streak across her cheek as she did so. "It's really not that hard, if you would simply try it again–"

"No. We refuse."

But Katja was undeterred and despite the fact that the twins had decided to look anywhere _but_ at her, she slipped off her stool and came to stand behind them, amused by the fact that they were pretending to ignore her. Rolling her eyes, she bent down and dipped her hands in the bucket of water between their pottery wheels, before running a wet index finger first down Hikaru's neck and then Kaoru's. The brothers both filched and gasped, spinning round on their stools to glare menacingly up at her, but Katja merely smirked.

"Now that I've got your attention, maybe you can stop acting like toddlers and listen to my preposition." Extracting a plastic carving tool from the pocket of her smock, she brandished it like a saber, grinning knowingly down at them. "Are the Hitachiin twins afraid of a little…competition?"

"Eh, competition?" they chorused, and Katja nodded. "For what?"

There was a pause, and she slid down onto the floor, kneeling between Hikaru and Kaoru, leaning towards her as she held a hand over her mouth and whispered.

"The contest is to spin a vase that matches mine, and whoever creates the one that is closest will win my seat next to Haruhi at the gala dinner tonight."

There was a pause.

"W-what?" spluttered Kaoru, his jaw hanging open as if it had been unhinged.

Katja shot him a sideways glare from beneath narrowed eyelids, a clear order to keep quiet, considering that the brunette in question, while still engrossed in her clay, was sitting barely eight feet away. Because while Haruhi was naïve beyond all question, she was most certainly _not_ deaf. When Kaoru had managed to regain control over his mandibles, there was a noticeable crease to his brow and Katja could feel his amber eyes boring holes into the side of her face, but she refused to meet them again. Her attention was on Hikaru.

Feeling like the hypocrite and liar that she was, Katja watched the older twin with mild curiosity, despite the fact that her heart was pounding in her ears. Praying that he wouldn't hear it, Katja licked her lips and immediately bit the inside of her cheek; she couldn't afford to give away her nervous habit. If either of the Hitachiins noticed, it would ruin what she had just recently decided to do.

She had spent the previous night, tossing and turning in her overstuffed bed while Haruhi had snored softly, her mind somersaulting around the situation she had walked into, not to mention the trouble she was causing, and was most likely going to cause. It had been a difficult conclusion, and Katja knew that it would eventually destroy the friendships she had made. But it was a price she was willing to pay; she had lived her life without friends, and she could go on without them, or at least that's what she told herself. She needed to, to convince herself, because while Katja had never considered herself an emotional person, it broke her heart to discover how quickly the Host Club was unraveling.

She hadn't been deaf to Hikaru's shout while staring down at the churning propellers with Tamaki, and after sending him inside the lounge on a hunt for hot chocolate, Katja had crept back from the prow and had stood silent, listening to the Hitachiins' conversation. White it was clear that the hosts were battling internal decay, she had to admit, they had been good at hiding it; the Hitachiins laughed genuinely at Tamaki's antics, enthusiastically participated in his stupid little games. But she knew the smiles wouldn't last, especially at the rate things were going, and it was clear that if they continued this way, the Host Club would not survive.

And that was something Katja could not sit back and watch happen.

They were going to have to realize, _all of them_, that Fujioka Haruhi was unobtainable. The thought now parading round her mind, Katja heaved a sudden sigh through her nose; this was turning into a soap opera the likes of which wouldn't even be shown on the worst cable network.

"So," she continued finally, after a long silence, "what d'you say?"

"What do I say?" whispered Hikaru, covering his own mouth with a hand. "You can't draw us into a contest that isn't fair – I know you know what's going…what's going on, and you'd just let me win. That's not fair to Kaoru, and it's not fair to Haruhi. I'd only put her in an awkward position."

Katja raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth would I let you win?"

"Because…because you're on _our side_, you're helping Kaoru and I…aren't you?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I'd just _let _you win, Hikaru. Honestly. Has your opinion of me sunk so low?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then a shy smile passed over his face. Katja was taken aback and couldn't help slight quirk of her lips; when did Hitachiin Hikaru start becoming embarrassed? The answer was obvious: only when Fujioka Haruhi was tossed into the equation.

Katja glanced over the top of her hand at Haruhi, who was still absorbed in shaping her bowl with her fingers, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as she ran a plastic knife around the rim. It was doubtful that their conversation had been quiet enough not be overheard – she really was oblivious. Either that or she just _really _liked that bowl…. But that was just part of her charm; she wasn't sly like Katja, and she wasn't materialistic like the girls at Ouran, she was simply…Haruhi. And Katja couldn't pretend that she did not see how this appealed to Hikaru, Kaoru, and Tamaki (even if he _was_ too stupid to realize it).

"Well, if you swear that you'll be fair, then I suppose we could–"

"Yes, let's do it."

It was Kaoru who had spoken this time, and for the first time since the conversation had begun. Katja's gaze slid slowly back towards the younger twin, but he was smiling at his brother and when he nodded, orange-streaked tresses flopped into his eyes. "It would be a good opportunity for you, Hikaru, to spend some time with Haruhi. Keep in mind; I'm not planning on letting you win either. Haruhi's _my_ friend, too. You gotta fight for it, man!"

"And it's not like you would be completely alone – there'd be other people at the table as well, so there's no reason for anything to be awkward," added Katja. "But I'll have you know that I have no intention of going easy on you; if both of your vases look horrendous, I'm keeping my seat. Sound fair? Good, because I don't care if it doesn't. You may start…now."

As Hikaru and Karou both scrambled back onto their stools, Katja hoisted herself to her feet and scooped up the pile of clay that Hikaru had previously tossed to the floor in frustration, dumping it back onto the plate of his pottery wheel. She turned away and made her way back to her own wheel, plopping back down on the seat and watching the twins now spinning the clay with determined frowns on their faces, the large ceramics studio now filled with the whirring of the machines.

It was quite interesting; the things Hikaru was willing to do for Haruhi, and the things Karou was willing to do for his brother. Katja could tell that there was something bothering Karou, obviously something that had to do with what she had just initiated, but he had bit his lip and held it back…in respect for his brother. How did he ever expect to be happy if he gave everything they couldn't share to his brother? Katja sighed and kneaded her forehead with a wrist; she wasn't sure if it was compassion, selfishness, or a combination of both.

Why did people have to be so _complicated_?

"Eh, Katja?"

"Yeah?"

Haruhi straightened up from her wheel, arching her back before slouching and smearing clay across her nose as she rubbed it absentmindedly. "What's wrong with Hikaru and Kaoru? They didn't seem too excited about this before and now…well, just _look_ at what they're doing."

"Guess all they needed was a little motivation," shrugged Katja, extracting a coil of wire from her smock pocket and sawing it under her vase to disconnect it from the wheel plate. Haruhi raised her eyebrows and watched as Hikaru stole glances at Kaoru, who was elongating the clay as it spun, and copied the movements of his hands.

"That's strange," she murmured. "Usually the only thing that gets them excited is the stupid contests that Tamaki-senpai likes to set up."

"Maybe they're just worried that you're better than them," suggested Katja with a small smile. "You're really getting good at this, Haruhi."

"Those rich bastards…"

A comfortable silence fell between the two girls as the Hitachiins continued their furious spinning, and Haruhi went back to smoothing the inside of her bowl while Katja stood and made her way across the room, through the lines of pottery wheels and the occasional potter. There was a long counter set against the adjacent wall, and an open door behind it revealed shelf upon shelf of jars of glaze in every color of the rainbow. A ceramic cup filled with stained paintbrushes sat atop the counter, serving its purpose as a paperweight while a woman was busy hunched over behind it, searching for something on the floor. Katja could hear her grumbling in Japanese and she knocked on the countertop, causing the woman to shoot upwards, a pair of purple-rimmed glasses clutched in one hand.

"Excuse me, are you the supervisor of this workshop?" asked Katja politely as she could manage in English. "I was wondering if there might be room in the kiln for a couple more pieces?"

The woman did not answer, but stared at Katja had though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her smile faltered and she looked around to see if there was something unusual behind her, but could spot nothing out of the ordinary and she ran a hand awkwardly through her recently straightened hair. Maybe the woman didn't speak English…?

"I'm sorry, I'll get one of my friends to ask…hey Haru–!"

"Are you Katja Goldsmith?"

"Uh, yeah, that's my name," replied Katja, surprised. "How'd you know?"

A broad smile had broken across the woman's face and she shoved the glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I recognized your face from the picture on your CD! Although, you look real different with straight hair…."

Katja blinked several times. "Wait, a_ CD_?" She must not have heard the woman correctly.

"Yeah, it was just released," replied the woman, disappearing as she bent over again, reappearing with a plastic case in her hand, which she passed to Katja. "I absolutely love it – you've got to be the best cellist I've ever heard! Did you take lessons from Yo-Yo Ma or something?"

Katja didn't answer; she was too busy gaping down at the cover of the CD to come up with any sort of reply. It was a picture that had been taken in The Opera Garnier in Paris; she was standing alone in the center of the large stage, head tipped forwards and eyes on her feet, her body dwarfed by the huge, golden proscenium and red velvet curtains that soared overhead. It was an impressive looking photograph, but not one Katja had ever seen before. She remembered playing at the Paris Opera and she could remember being interested in the large wad of gum stuck to her shoe, but she couldn't remember being photographed during her tour of the building….

"D'you think I could have that back, Goldsmith-san?"

"Wha– oh sure, sorry," mumbled Katja, handing the CD back to the still-grinning woman, who popped open the case and took out the disc, spinning it on her index finger. "So, uh, is there any space in the…in the kiln?"

"Sure is, I was just about to fire a batch from yesterday's workshop. If you stick yours over on that table with the rest, I'll put it in there for you," the woman replied cheerfully, nodding towards a long table at the other end of the room. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I think that's about it."

"Hey, Goldsmith-san, could I ask a favor? Would you mind signing the case?"

Katja nodded and accepted the marker, scrawling her name across the plastic before returning both items to the star-struck ceramics instructor. With that, she turned hastily away before the woman could stop her and hurried back the way she had come.

Katja knew that the CD ordeal shouldn't have surprised her – her parents and agent had been talking about it for quite some time, it had just…never actually happened. But now that her parents were in contact with a certain mastermind named Ootori Kyouya, she supposed it had been almost inevitable. Although, that didn't stop her from wondering if producing a CD without her permission bypassed some sort of law, and she giggled darkly at the thought of Kyouya sitting in a jail cell, typing away on his laptop.

Her musings were short lived, however, for when she had returned to the corner of pottery wheels that the Hitachiins and Haruhi were currently occupying, the sight she found left her dumbfounded.

"There you are, Katja," announced Hikaru, spinning on his stool to watch her approach, eyes taking in her obviously stunned expression with satisfaction. "We finished the vases."

"So what do you think?" asked Kaoru smugly, leaning against his brother's shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Pretty good, yeah?"

"'Pretty good'?" Katja repeated in shock, her mouth falling open as she looked from the vases still sitting on the wheels to the twins' faces. "You two, these are amazing!"

It was true; the vases that Hikaru and Kaoru had spun _were _amazing. Albeit, they looked almost nothing like her own, which now paled in comparison; they were both goose-necked, twisting in directions opposite of each other, spirals of rolled clay snaking up the sides in intricate designs. They had even added handles, whose ends curled into neat coils against the curved bottom. But, Katja noticed with a drop of her stomach, the vases were identical. Down to the last detail, they were identical.

She felt like swearing.

"Y'know, you were right," remarked Hikaru, drumming his fingers slowly on Kaoru's thigh as they exchanged another sly look. "This pottery thing is really easy."

"A little too easy, huh?" Katja retorted and she planted her fists on her hips, jaw quirking in anger as it so too often did. "You two are the biggest, most arrogant assholes I have ever–"

"Wow, Hikaru, Kaoru, those are fantastic!"

The curse died instantly on Katja's tongue and she glanced over to see Haruhi standing near the twins' wheels, examining the vases with a wistful expression. She ran a finger around the rim before smiling through her hair at the Hitachiins, one of who grinned back while the other flushed and looked away.

"Which one's your favorite, Haruhi?"

The girl put a finger to her lip, pulling at it in thought as she continued to examine the vases, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two, regardless of the fact that they were identical. It was only several moments later, after Katja had plopped down on a stool and scooted it closer, that she straightened up, the finger that had previously been toying her with her lip pointing to rightmost vase.

"I think I like this one the most," replied Haruhi. "The rim has a fan-shaped pattern – it's pretty. And it reminds me of a Pectinidae."

"Eh, it reminds you of a pesticide?" inquired Hikaru, cocking his head to the side.

"She means a scallop," Katja explained automatically. "A member of the Pectinidae family."

Hikaru and Kaoru both rolled their eyes at her, and she tossed her hands up indignantly. "What, you _asked_!"

"Is this yours, Kaoru?" Haruhi asked as she gestured towards the vase again, her eyes sparkling with pride. The teen reached up and rubbed the back of his head shyly.

"Yep."

"Well in _that_ case," said Katja, standing abruptly and fishing around in the pocket of her jeans, "I deem you the winner of our contest." She extracted a slip of paper, folding it into Kaoru's palm and closing his fingers around it. "Congratulations."

"Katja, you never told me what the competition was," piped up Haruhi, as though she had only just remembered. "It must have been something really good, to have Hikaru compete against Kaoru…."

"Oh, they were just trying to see who could spun the vase that you would like the best," Katja lied with a causal wave of her hand. "I put my seat next to you at the dinner tonight as a prize; that's my dinner ticket that Kaoru has. Here, give me yours…"

"That's all?" Haruhi barely blinked, and Kaoru handed Katja his own ticket. "Well, I suppose nothing else would have worked; that's one thing they couldn't buy."

"What do you mean, 'nothing else would have worked'?"

She shrugged. "Weren't you just trying to get Hikaru and Kaoru to try pottery again?"

"Oh yeah, I was," Katja replied hastily before turning to Hikaru. "Am I sitting next to you tonight, then, Hikaru? Don't worry, love, I'm perfectly capable of acting proper when the occasion calls."

"What, _only_ when the occasion calls?" came the response.

Katja's retort was interrupted, however, by a high-pitched sound issuing from Kaoru's pant pocket. As Hikaru and Haruhi groaned with apparent recognition, Katja was left clueless until Kaoru pulled a silver cellular phone from his pocket and flipped it open, and the beeping ceased. The Hitachiin said nothing for a moment, but then responded in quick Japanese while Haruhi and Hikaru glanced at each other with puzzled expressions. After wondering briefly how in the world cellular service was available in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Katja sighed heavily, slouching over and cradling her face in her hands.

She was beginning to understand what the people of Babylon must have felt like when building the Tower Babel to reach heaven; unable to understand the new tongues God had given them – like complete idiots.

"Here, here, Katja," called Kaoru, waving her over and extending the cell phone towards her. "He won't be dissuaded."

Katja took the silver device, and after exchanging a confused look with Kaoru, held the phone to her ear. "What is it?"

"Such a rude greeting, Katja. I hope you remember your manners tonight."

Katja didn't have to see Kyouya to know he was smirking. She grit her teeth and spun on her stool, turning her back towards the other teens. "You're one to talk about manners, Ootori!" she hissed back. "Tell me, is it customary in Japan to bypass copyright laws as a show of friendship?"

This earned her a chuckle from the other end. "Ah, so you found out about that," he said, sounding infuriatingly pleased with himself. "From what I've heard so far, it's been very successful not only in Japan, but in your home country. It's due to be released in the United States tomorrow, and it's sure to be met with success there as well." Kyouya paused, and there was a sound of clinking glass. "You don't sound pleased."

"Well of course I'm not pleased!" Katja snapped, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she rubbed the clay residue from her fingers. "Kyouya, you produced a CD without my permission. What is there for me to be pleased about?"

"What _isn't _there for you to be pleased about?" he countered swiftly. "Just because it wasn't done your way doesn't mean you can't benefit from it. This was an operation set up by your parents, in which I merely assisted them, and I can assure you no laws were broken. For you, this is an opportunity to gain global recognition for your talent; you have nothing to lose. I'm not surprised by your work's success, only that this didn't happen earlier."

"And what for you, Kyouya? What do you gain from it?"

"Increased interest in you, of course. I can only imagine how the attendance at Ouran's festival will skyrocket, now that the entire country knows your name."

Damn his logic. "Well, the picture on the cover _was _nice…."

"Ah, there it is. And so, what will be your thanks to me?"

"You earn the right to live another day," she retorted.

"Hmm," murmured Kyouya thoughtfully, and Katja could almost _see_ the sadistic little smile on his face, "we need to work on that brutality of yours. I think it'll be safe to devote another lesson to that. What do you think, Tamaki? Yes? Well that's settled then."

Katja was spluttering. "A-and you call yourself our mother!"

"You'll find that I don't. Now if you would be so kind as to stop playing with glorified mud and take Haruhi with you back to your cabin, there's something I think you should see."

And with that, the line went dead

* * *

After Kaoru, Hikaru, and Haruhi had successfully calmed an irate Katja, rescuing the phone from being smashed on the floor as she shouted things in German that would have made a sailor blush crimson, the four students exited the ceramics studio hastily. Katja was still cursing when they separated back into their cabins, Haruhi patting her arm consolingly and talking in the quiet, comforting way that was only capable of a female. She reassured a worried Kaoru and a slightly disgusted looking Hikaru that she would handle the situation, and the pair disappeared into their stateroom, leaving the Hitachiins in silence.

"You really should try and control your temper, Katja-san," said Haruhi once they had entered the safety of the room, closing the door behind her and enveloping them in darkness. "You work everyone into a right state of worry when you do that. And I think you'd do best to avoid a lecture from Tamaki-senpai; it's horrifying. Trust me."

In the dark, Haruhi couldn't make out Katja's face, but she sensed that she was frowning. "I know," she said, sounding guilty now. "I'm sorry, Haruhi. I don't normally blow up like that. Maybe I'm on my period or something."

"Oh, don't feel bad," reassured Haruhi quickly, reaching out to touch Katja's arm, her hand landing instead on her shoulder. "That's just the Host Club Syndrome. They really drive you crazy at first."

"I suppose, but…I think Kyouya had a point. Maybe I am too brutal."

Haruhi tilted her head to the side in the darkness. "What're you talking about?"

"Ah, never mind. Hey, d'you know where the light switch is?"

"I think it's somewhere to your right…."

There was a dull thud as Katja walked into a table, followed closely by her hiss of pain as she rubbed her thigh where a bruise was sure to bloom.

"Are you okay?" It was Haruhi, poised near the wall, her hands splayed over its surface as she searched for the elusive switch.

"Yeah, I think I found a lamp," replied Katja, the hand that wasn't still gripping her leg roaming through space until it brushed over the lampshade. After locating the ceramic base, her fingers found the metal knob and she twisted it, causing a small pool of light to fan out across the floor around her. Somewhere behind her, Katja heard Haruhi's sound of triumph.

"Ah ha, _here's_ the switch!"

There was a click and the lights suddenly blazed into life, flooding the room with the soft glow of frosted bulbs. Both of the girls relaxed visibly, Haruhi sighing in relief as Katja collapsed into the nearest chair. She hoisted her leg up onto the coffee table before her and rolled up her pant leg, examining the new purple patch spreading across her skin, mentally cursing her clumsiness, despite the fact that the room had been pitch-black.

"Why's the curtain closed?" Katja wondered aloud, pressing her index finger to the fresh bruise. She looked up, watching as Haruhi moved towards the glass doors, over which the heavy French curtain had been drawn. "It was open when we left, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," murmured Haruhi. She glanced over her shoulder at Katja, eyebrows raised. "This isn't what Kyouya-senpai was talking about, was it?"

"I doubt it. There has to be something else…."

As if in response to her question, there came a sudden thump from the direction of the closet, whose closed door stood adjacent to that of the bathroom. Katja was up in a flash, the leg of her pants still rolled up around her thigh as she tiptoed her way towards the closet, leaving Haruhi to scuttle after her. Ducking into the bathroom, Katja reemerged with the long handled brush from the shower in one hand, holding it like a baseball bat, ready to swing. Crossing over to the opposite side of the closet door, she reached for the handle, fingers hovering over the brass knob as she glanced at Haruhi, who was crouching across from her with a look of apprehension on her face.

"Haruhi," whispered Katja, her voice barely audible, "do you have a mobile phone?"

The girl nodded, extracting the device from a pocket in her sweater. She flipped it open and began tapping at the keys with her thumb, but Katja waved her hand frantically for her to stop. "What?"

"This could be what Kyouya was talking about, or it could also be a burglar going through our things. But we don't need to cause a fuss if it's only the former," she explained as Haruhi strained to hear her. "I'm going to open the door on the count of three, and if it's a burglar, I want you to get out of here as fast as you can and call Kyouya. Okay, Haruhi?"

"Okay, Katja."

"Ready?" Katja's right hand closed over the handle and she steadied the brush in the other, swallowing thickly as Haruhi nodded again. "One…two…three!"

She pushed down on the handle and swung the door open in one swift moment, jumping forwards and shouting something in German that Haruhi couldn't understand, brandishing the brush like a sword in front of her. Almost simultaneously, a pair of falsetto shrieks issued from the two maids who stood clutching each other in the center of the large closet, their eyes shut and their mouths gaping open.

"Alright, alright!" yelled Katja over the cries of the two girls, dropping the brush and clamping her hands over her ears. "Shut up already!"

The screaming continued for a moment longer before dying away as the pair of maids opened their eyes, lips closing as they released each other, straightening their skirts hurriedly. Haruhi, who had come to stand beside her, received a puzzled look from Katja, but she could only shrug. She knew why these two extremely familiar looking maids were in their closet; she simply didn't want to say it.

"_Haruhi-sama_!" greeted one of the maids in Japanese, a smiling breaking across her face. "_It's so good to see you again! Oh, my, your hair has gotten longer – it looks adorable_!"

"_Oh, thanks, Maika-san_," replied Haruhi, awkwardly twisting a piece of hair around a finger and causing it spring into a coil. "_I didn't know that Hikaru and Kaoru had brought their maids on the cruise_."

"_Hitachiin-sama did not request our presence_," explained the other maid. _"It was Ootori-sama_."

"_Yes, that's right_!" muttered Maika, holding a hand to her chin. "_Thank you, Maiko-san, I had forgotten_…"

"_Anyway_," continued Haruhi quickly, watching a bewildered Katja out of the corner of her eye, "_what're you two doing in our closet_?"

"_Ootori-sama told us that we should meet you in you stateroom to assist you in dressing for the gala later tonight_–"

"–_and somehow we ended up in here, I don't remember–_"

"–_We wanted to see what kind of clothes you had brought, but when we went to leave, the door handle was stuck, and we couldn't get the door open_," finished Maiko in a rush. "_And then Maika knocked over one of your suitcases_." She pointed to the fallen piece of luggage as testament.

"_Oh, I see_," said Haruhi simply. "_Did either of you happen to close the shades_?"

"_Apologies, Haruhi-sama, we just wanted to make sure that we had privacy when you arrived_." Both Maika and Maiko bowed, but Haruhi waved her hands and smiled.

"_No need to apologize, Katja and I were slightly worried, is all_."

The two maids exchanged sly smirks. "_Yes, yes, Goldsmith-sama, we know all about her._"

"_You do_?" asked Haruhi, surprised. _"Well, I suppose Kyouya-senpai would have filled you in_–"

"_Well_ _yes, Ootori-sama informed us of the situation but_–"

"–_But we knew of Goldsmith-sama before we were contacted by Ootori-sama_."

"_Hikaru and Kaoru-sama talk often of you, Haruhi-sama, and increasingly so of Katja-sama_," said Maiko, still smirking. This was all lost on Haruhi, however, who merely nodded.

"_Oh, I see_," she said again. "_Do you two speak English, then? I'm sure you already know that Katja speaks no Japanese_."

"_Yes, we know_."

"_Then you'd better get a move on_."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Good afternoon, Goldsmith-sama," chimed both Maika and Maiko, clapping their hands together and smiling dazzlingly at her. "We must say that it's quite the pleasure to finally meet you!"

While Haruhi had been expecting another outburst from Katja, she was pleasantly surprised when the German smiled at the two maids, extending her hand and remarking on their uncanny resemblance to the Hitachiins. This earned her another giggle and sly smirk, and it wasn't long before the two students found themselves being pushed out of the closet and back towards the array of couches and chairs they had occupied previously. Katja and Haruhi both took seats on the sofa next to each other as Maika and Maiko stood before them, their twin faces shining with excitement.

"Now that you are both here–" began Maiko, clapping her hands again.

"–And now that we've been rescued from the closet–"

"–Operation 'Get-Haruhi-To-Wear-A-Dress' can finally begin!"

Mouth hanging open in question, Katja turned towards Haruhi, who merely shook her head and sighed. "Ah yes, I figured that what it was going to be."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Katja, holding up a hand as if to halt the conversation. "I obviously missed something here."

Maika and Maiko looked at each other again, exchanging the secret look they seemed to share whenever Katja spoke. "Ootori-sama has instructed us to ready both you and Haruhi-sama for the gala tonight," Maika explained. "He said that he doesn't believe either of you capable of preparing for the occasion yourselves."

Several moments passed in silence before Katja finally spoke.

"Hey, Haruhi," she murmured, tilting her head towards her, eyes closed.

"Mm?" An eye cracked open, and Haruhi could tell she was smiling.

"Does this sort of thing happen frequently?"

"Increasingly so." There was yet another pause.

"I'm glad to hear that."

* * *

While Katja may not have minded being bombarded with the truckloads of clothing that had mysteriously materialized along with Maika and Maiko, Haruhi, on the other hand, was annoyed. She sat on the sofa with her arms crossed over her ungratefully flat chest, watching with an air of exasperation as Katja and the two Hitachiin maids flitted through the racks of dresses that had been hauled into the middle of the stateroom, disappearing behind folds of silk and other materials Haruhi couldn't name.

She huffed a sigh through her nose. Fashion was such a useless thing.

"Oh Haruhi, don't just sit there like a lump!" It was Katja, and although Haruhi could hear her voice, she could not see any physical sign of her, and that meant she was lurking about in the dress racks. "C'mon, you're going to have to pick one _sometime_. Dinner starts in two hours, and no way in hell am I going down there by myself."

"This extravagance is wasted," Haruhi remarked as she examined her chipped fingernails with disinterest. Looking up, she was met with Katja's head, poking out between a blue dress and a black one, her hair swinging as she lifted an eyebrow.

"How long have you been in the Host Club?"

"About a year," she replied. Katja's eyebrows rose higher, vanishing under her bangs.

"What, and you're still not used to this?"

"No, I'm used to it," Haruhi continued as Katja slipped back between the dresses and disappeared from view, "but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"That's crap," retorted Katja, coming around the side of the rack to lean against it, staring back at Haruhi with a fist against her hip. "You cannot honestly tell me that you haven't ever enjoyed your friends' eccentricities. For God's sake, Haruhi, they _fawn_ over you, and they'd bend over backwards for you to have your way." She paused here, running a finger over her bottom lip as her mouth tipped upwards into yet another knowing smile. Haruhi was beginning to notice in increase in the number of times that this gesture was made, and if she was completely frank with herself, it made her feel…well, uncomfortable.

Like Katja knew something she didn't.

"Haruhi, do you think Tamaki is in love with you?"

"W-what kind of question is that?" spluttered Haruhi, her mouth hanging open and her face burning.

"Wait, let me rephrase that," said Katja, seemingly oblivious to Haruhi's embarrassment. Either that or she was ignoring it. Haruhi decided on the latter. "What do you think about the possibility of Tamaki being in love with you?"

"I-I think it's utterly ridiculous," she managed to reply after a moment, pressing her palms to her flaming cheeks, cursing the reaction that was blush. "You…you've heard the way he talks, there's just no way that's possible. And even if he _was_ in love with me, I would already know, wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. Would you?"

Haruhi blinked, and there was that goddamn smile again. Only this time it irritated her. "Stop giving me that look!"

"Look?" Katja repeated, feigning surprise and succeeding in angering the Japanese girl further. "What look?"

"_That_ look!" Haruhi exclaimed, standing and pointing accusingly at Katja's face. "That stupid little smug smile! Every time you look at me– ha, there it is again!"

Katja merely rolled her eyes. "You're just avoiding the subject."

"Am not!" Haruhi retorted, causing Katja to raise an eyebrow.

"What ever you say," Katja sighed finally, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "Here, I found this dress for you to wear – and don't worry, it's surprisingly decent."

Thankful for the change in subject and knowing that there was no escape, Haruhi allowed Katja to take her by the hand and lead her through the maze of clothing, wondering how in the world she knew where she was going. Haruhi could hear Maika and Maiko whispering in Japanese, their voices hushed and punctuated by the occasional giggle, but could neither see them nor make out any of what they were saying. The feeling was quite disorientating.

"Ah ha, here it is," said Katja after what felt like an eternity, coming to a halt and releasing Haruhi's hand to dive into a rack, emerging again with a hanger dangling off her fingers. She looked from Haruhi to the dress on the hanger and back again, smiling.

"So what do you think?"

"It's fine," said Haruhi with a shrug. "It's sure better than anything Maika or Maiko would make me wear…."

"Well hurry up and put it on then!" Katja said impatiently as she waved the garment for Haruhi to take. Folding the dress over arm, Haruhi looked about uncertainly. "What?"

"Where d'you want me to–"

"Just go round that rack," replied Katja with a wave of her hand towards the rows on either side of them. "I won't look."

With a nod of assent, Haruhi disappeared behind the indicated row of clothing, and Katja could hear the rustle of fabric as she changed. "You know what's weird?" remarked Katja, folding her arms over her chest and gazing up at the cream colored ceiling thoughtfully as she waited for Haruhi to finish.

"What is?" came the inquiry from Haruhi's direction.

"There are certain dresses in my size, and there are others that are in what I am assuming is your size," Katja continued. "What do you think, did Hikaru and Kaoru collaborate with Kyouya on this one? I personally think I see Tamaki's hand in this, as well…."

"Well, this dress _does_ carry the label of Hikaru and Kaoru's mother's design studio," replied Haruhi as she struggled to reach the elusive zipper on the back of the dress, catching a glance of the all too familiar logo on the silken tag. "But if those two knew anything, they kept unusually mum about it. Normally it's all I can do to get them to shut up."

Katja had to stifle her giggle. "Hey, are you done yet?"

"Yeah, but I can't get the damn…_zipper_."

"What, haven't you ever put on a dress before?" drawled Katja, coming around the rack to see Haruhi turning round in an awkward circle, arm slung back over her shoulder as she strained to reach the clasp. Shooing her fingers away, Katja closed the zipper in a long sweep and then stepped back.

"Does it fit?" she asked, bringing a hand up to her chin as Haruhi adjusted the sides of the dress, smoothing the fabric over the straight line of her waist.

"I think so. Is it supposed to snug like this?"

"Yeah, that's just the style. Turn around already and let me see."

The dress, which extended just past Haruhi's knees, ended in a bubble skirt that swished as she rotated for inspection, sending a breeze across her skin that left goose pimples parading in its wake. The fabric was silken, a deep color of purple that Haruhi could remember having seen on the flesh of a perfectly ripe plum. Haruhi supposed the dress was nice, but it left her feeling rather chill with her shoulders exposed, covered only by the chiffon straps that extended up from the strap of material gathered under her almost nonexistent bust. But Haruhi was grateful for the unusual preoccupation of Maika and Maiko, shuddering at the memory of the first time she had been shanghaied into a Hitachiin fashion experiment.

"It's perfect," preened Katja, smiling with pride at her own selection. Haruhi lifted a shoulder in indifference as the German circled her, still grinning, reminding Haruhi vaguely of the fashion-obsessed Mei. Actually, mused Haruhi, the pair shared several similarities; their mouths both had a mind of their own, for one. But she had to admit, on Katja it was…well, almost endearing.

"So, no objections then?"

Haruhi shook her head. "No, this is fine," she replied. "But I didn't think that you were one for the fancy dresses and high-heels type thing."

"I wear them all the time," Katja explained, "so who's to care? On the other hand, you're walking around six days out of the week dressed like a boy. Even _I_ can't help but feel a little excited." She paused. "Do you think the other hosts will agree?"

"This episode is more familiar than you know," came the dark reply and Katja laughed.

"Well that's not exactly surprising."

"You think so?"

"Of course. I can imagine it's difficult for someone to be in love with a girl who spends nearly all her time pretending to be a boy. A situation like that would have a tendency to turn awkward, don't you think?"

Apparently, Katja had never heard of a thing called 'yaoi.' But once again, she ignored the fact that Haruhi's mouth was hanging open like a rather surprised goldfish, and lifted her wrist before tapping the studded watch's face, pivoting and motioning for Haruhi to follow her. But the girl seemed to have been rendered incapable of doing anything, save for gaping like an idiot. Honestly, if her reaction to mere hints was this severe, Katja didn't dare to think of what she would be like when the time came to put her full plan into action.

But that was the least of her problems.

"We only have a little while longer before our rendezvous with Team Ridiculous," she said with another lopsided smile. "And unless you want Maika and Maiko to take over the task of tackling your hair and make-up–"

"N-no, no, I'm coming!" Haruhi stammered, becoming suddenly articulate as she hurried to catch up with Katja after picking up her clothes and folding them against her chest. Glancing up at the taller teen beside her, Haruhi felt something turn over in her stomach that she supposed would be called 'apprehension.' But what did she have to be apprehensive about? Maybe she was hungry. After all, it had been a while since they had eaten lunch….

Yes, Haruhi decided, nodding with satisfaction. That's all it was.

She was just hungry.

* * *

**(A/N) **Zzz-ngh! Oh sorry, I fell asleep.


	9. Silver

**(A/N) **Deadlines, what deadlines?

* * *

_And when I wake, I'm right here by your side_

_To feel your heart beat in and out of time.  
_

_

* * *

_

Silver

Hitachiin Kaoru watched through half-lidded eyes as his twin placed the plastic cocktail straw once again between his lips. Ripping the corner off the napkin under his glass, Hikaru rolled the paper into a ball and popped it into his mouth before extracting a mass of slobbery pulp, which he proceeded to attach to the end of his straw. He paused for a moment, glancing around to confirm that he was not being watched, and launched the spitball across the room with a satisfying _whoosh_. Like a bullet shot out of a pistol, neither of the brothers saw the spitball again until it had hit its target; the back of a particularly large man enjoying his third beer, whom had unwittingly been the victim of Hikaru's flying, saliva-laden napkin wads for the past twenty minutes.

As Hikaru grinned in triumph and reached for more paper ammunition from the pile on the bar, Kaoru sighed and shifted on his stool, running a finger around the rim of his now room-temperature soda water. This small movement caught the attention of his twin, whose hand stopped midair, cocktail straw and spitball all but forgotten.

"_What's up_?" he asked, sounding concerned. "_You usually don't mind when I beat you at Spitballs. Are you feeling okay, Kaoru_?"

"_You should be in my position_," he replied quietly. "_This is pointless_."

"_Oh quit being so dramatic_!" Hikaru scolded as he tapped his brother's nose with the straw. "_Usually I'd be the one moping around about this, but I think it's better this way_."

Kaoru raised an eyebrow. "_How so_?" he asked dubiously. "_It's one of our goals to get you to spend more time alone with Haruhi, and this would be the perfect opportunity_."

"_True,_ _but_ _this is also the perfect opportunity for you to find out where Haruhi's feelings on me stand, and whether or not she's aware of Lord's feelings_," Hikaru explained with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "_You know what would happen if I tried to pull that off_."

It was Kaoru's turn to roll his eyes. "_Yeah, someone would probably end up dead_."

"_Probably_," agreed Hikaru. "_And_ _not only that, but while you're sitting next to Haruhi, I'll be with Katja, which gives me the chance to find out how _she_ feels about _you."

Kaoru, who had just picked up his glass, snorted into the liquid and began coughing, replacing the drink on the bar and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"_You're kidding, right_?" he said, watching his twin with a mixture of amusement and something that Hikaru couldn't place. "_Really, you can't be serious_."

"_And why the hell not_?" Hikaru asked; affronted by the skeptical look Kaoru was giving him. He gave his shoulder a playful shove. "_What, you don't think I could do it_?"

"_I thought we'd already established that, Hikaru_," Kaoru replied, nonplussed, and he took another careful sip of his soda before signaling the bartender for another. "_You and Katja can barely go ten minutes without threatening each other with bodily harm, let alone uphold a civil conversation_."

"_Yeah, so_?" came the stubborn retort. "_What's your point_?"

"_My_ point_ is_," continued Kaoru as he slid several yen towards the bartender and plucked a cherry from his glass, dangling it from his fingertips, "_that you're the last person Katja would admit _anything_ to, let alone some romantic allegation_."

"_You're just worried about what the answer will be_," Hikaru countered, but Kaoru only shrugged and popped the cherry into his mouth. "_Well it doesn't matter, because there's nothing stopping me from finding out for myself_." He moved forwards, poking Kaoru's chest with a finger before stealing the slice of orange from his soda. "_This is no longer a one-sided battle_."

"_Do whatever you want, Hikaru_," Kaoru replied uncaringly, flapping a hand at his twin's smirk."_You're_ _only going to tell me things I already know._"

If Hikaru had had a reply to this, Kaoru never heard it, because at that precise moment, two figures entered the lounge through the door over his shoulder, one dragging the other along by the hand, and Hikaru's jaw snapped closed. Removing his finger from his brother's chest, he waved towards the pair, leaving Kaoru to spin round on his stool to see one female he recognized and one he did not. As they approached, Kaoru felt something heavy drop into the pit of his stomach, and upon glancing up at Hikaru's face, he could tell that his twin was suffering the same aliment.

This was clearly going to be an interesting night.

"_Guten Abend, meine gutaussehende Freunde_," greeted Katja in smooth German, smiling unabashedly at the two redheads, who were both looking from her to Haruhi in what she could only assume was shock. Katja couldn't blame them; she imagined that she had worn a similar expression when she had finished applying makeup to Haruhi's surprisingly fresh face. The girl was a living testament to the miracles a little mascara could accomplish.

"What do you think, Haruhi?" Katja continued, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear and grinning impishly. "Don't Hikaru and Kaoru look handsome?"

The girl eyed the twins' blazers and fitted pants before shrugging one chiffon-covered shoulder. "They look appropriate. Hey, Hikaru, are you okay? Your face is really red."

"_Jeez_, Haruhi, you look amazing!" Kaoru finally managed to say, finding his tongue and causing Katja to grin triumphantly.

It wasn't a lie; Haruhi_ did_ look stunning, in a plum dress and silver bangles that jingled merrily whenever she moved. And so did Katja, Kaoru admitted to himself, but seeing her in girly clothes was a semi-regular occurrence, while with Haruhi, it was an almost nonexistent rarity. Not only because she mirrored a teenage boy six days out of the week, but also because Haruhi saw fashion as a useless waste of time. Meaning that even if everyone knew the female Fujioka Haruhi as the only Fujioka Haruhi, she'd _still _probably look like a boy…one who dressed in the dark.

Which was a shame, Kaoru mused, because she had really nice ankles, ankles that were presently complimented in black kitten heels tied with matching ribbon.

"Thank you, Kaoru," said Haruhi and she beamed up at him, the purple powder that had been brushed over her eyelids shimmering in the dim light. "Katja did all of it herself. But it was strange…."

"What, Katja making you look like something out of Tamaki's inner-mind theatre?"

"His what?"

"Uh, never-mind."

"Well anyway," Haruhi continued, shaking her head, "Maika and Maiko were both in our cabin with a thousand and one dresses, all under the Hitachiin label. They said that Kyouya-senpai arranged for them to be here too, just for the purpose of dressing us up for this dinner…thing." She sighed in annoyance. "Honestly, the crap that idiot pulls off."

"Wait, Mai_ka_ and Mai_ko_?" repeated Hikaru, frowning and tapping his ear. "D'you mean _our_ Maika and Maiko?" Haruhi nodded, and the redhead swore under his breath.

"Oh don't be upset, Hikaru, they really weren't that bad–"

"It's not that," he grumbled, and Haruhi glanced at Katja in surprise.

"What then–?"

"Why didn't _we_ think of that?" wailed Kaoru, smacking his forehead with an open palm. "And with our own _help_! We're going to have to step it up, Hikaru – we can't have that Ootori stealing our position…it's time to _pwn_ some _noobs_, man!"

"'Position'?" snorted Katja as the Hitachiins high-fived animatedly. "As _what_, exactly?"

"As co-controllers of Haruhi's female wardrobe, of course!" came the simultaneous reply from the twins. "It's a job we share with Lord."

"It used to be just Tamaki-senpai–" Haruhi began, but Hikaru quickly cut her off.

"And then we realized that he's a closet pervert."

"Tamaki, a _closet pervert_?" Katja was laughing now. "He has the brain of a six year old, for cripes sake – you know that better than I do."

"What, it's true!" added Kaoru indignantly. "He would've gotten his paws on you, too, if we weren't already seasoned to his plots. You should be grateful."

"Oh so now he's a_ plotting_ closet pervert?" she snickered, and Kaoru's cheeks went pink.

After Katja's giggles had subsided (helped along by Hikaru's suggestion that she was also a 'closet pervert'), the two girls both took stools at the bar and ordered mineral water, deciding to wait with Hikaru and Kaoru until the rest of the Host Club arrived, after which they would all go down to the ship's ballroom for the gala. Paying the bartender and drinking gratefully from the cold glass, Katja surveyed the lounge around her, the interior of which she had hardly noticed since entering it.

Even if she had had known nothing of the gala, it would have been painfully obvious that there was some sort of event going on; all cruise staff working in the first-class-only area were clad in either black tuxedo or evening gown, gender allowing, and the gleaming wooden walls had been strung with glittering decorations, silver stars dangling down from invisible wires. There was even a sprinkling of metallic blue dots over the marble top of the bar, and Katja touched one with a finger, the confetti attaching to her condensation-moistened skin. Raising her hand up again, she watched as the dot floated down and landed atop her thigh and disappeared against the navy silk of her dress, which she now felt terribly clichéd in, considering the apparent color scheme of the gala.

Glancing left over the rim of her water, Katja watched Haruhi fiddle with the dragonfly-shaped ornament Maika had pinned to her wavy hair, Kaoru trace circles in the confetti on the bar top idly, and Hikaru feed twisted bits of napkin into a straw and launch them across the room. When another spitball flew from Hikaru's newest weapon of torment, Haruhi turned towards him and said something sternly in Japanese, which he responded to by blowing yet another wad of paper from the straw, at which point Kaoru had to intervene.

Katja smiled to herself. She found it hard to believe that the Hitachiins had once been conniving, anti-social jerks (although conniving still fit the bill), the way they teased Haruhi but always ended it with a smile and swift kiss to the end of her nose. It was one of the many stories that Haruhi had entertained Katja with, while she had sat in front of the washroom mirror and had waves applied methodically to her short hair with a three-barrel roller – how each of the hosts had come to be in the club. She had meant it to be harmless, unknowing of the fact that these memories had succeeded in hardening Katja's resolve in her plan.

The plan was simple, and with it, she had only one goal: to secure the Host Club's future, and the hosts' friendship. In theory, and in Katja's mind (but mostly the latter), it was seamless; she would convince Tamaki that Haruhi loved him (which wasn't _exactly_ a lie), but she would also tell him that Hikaru loved Haruhi (which _wasn't _a lie). Katja knew enough about Tamaki to know what his reaction would be; to him, the Host Club was like a family, a family that romantic entanglements would only threaten. Therefore, this would leave him with only one option: to make sure that these entanglements did not happen.

All she had to do was sit back and watch the rest fall into place.

She smiled to herself and turned her head away from the Japanese teens, examining her freshly manicured fingernails with vague interest. Yes, the plan was perfect, footfalls and side effects nonexistent. The only worry Katja had was that it would be discovered by the other hosts and put to an end; in which case she knew their friendship would be damaged forever. But Katja knew it was a risk she had to take; she could live without friends, she had her whole life. But the Host Club…they needed each other. More than even _they_ knew.

"Oi, Lord, Kyouya, Hunny, and Mori-senpai! We're over here! Turn around, Milord…ah, there you go." Glancing over again, Katja saw Kaoru wave towards the lounge door, his back turned towards her. Tamaki was standing on the threshold, spinning in fruitless circles, until Kyouya grabbed his shoulder and pointed his head in the proper direction. When he finally spotted them on their stools, his eyes lit up and he began a valiant march towards the bar. Hikaru snickered and rolled his eyes.

"Remind me, Haruhi, why do we hang out with these idiots?"

Haruhi arched an eyebrow and gave the redhead a quizzical look. "Kind of makes me wonder why I hang out with _you_ two."

When the rest of the hosts had finally gathered around the bar, Kyouya requested to inspect their dinner tickets, and the other teens obliged, Kaoru elbowing Haruhi and saying something in Japanese, at which the girl grinned and laughed. When Katja passed over her own ticket, Kyouya shot her a knowing look over his glasses that made Katja's stomach churn and sent a jolt of panic through her skull. Surely he didn't suspect her _already_…!

But when Kyouya returned the slip of paper, he said nothing, merely nodding before moving on to Mitsukuni and Takashi. Heart rate slowly returning to normal, Katja replaced the ticket inside her quilted clutch, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. It was perfect, she told herself firmly. It was, it had to be...

Unfortunately for Katja, however, what she did not know was that people are most certainly _not _'perfect', conforming neither to plan nor reason. This rule held especially true for the hosts of the Host Club, which, considering what she'd seen and experienced, Katja should have known.

But it wouldn't be long before she did.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Katja started at the quiet voice in her ear and breath stirring her hair. But it was only Hikaru, leaning towards her and speaking out of the corner of his mouth, as if he did not want to be overhead. The group had long since left the safety of the first-class lounge and had ventured to the lower decks towards the ballroom, only to find the large doors closed and a small queue of guests milling around, sipping red wine. There apparently had been some disaster in the ship's kitchens that had resulted in a crab cake-fueled inferno that had taken ten power washers to extinguish, an event that had understandably delayed the start of the gala. This left the Host Club, Katja, and the other cruise guest who had arrived on time to lull in the lush entrance corridor, snacking on plates finger-food and whatever else the disheveled and stressed staff had managed to rustle out of the kitchen, along with profuse apologizes that were translated and recited back to Katja, complete with witty comments from the Hitachiins.

Katja didn't mind the snag, and apparently neither did any of the other hosts, as they had all found ways of amusing themselves; Kyouya had disappeared to smooze with the elites, Tamaki was entertaining a new group of teenaged followers with an animated story, Haruhi and Kaoru had gone searching for more Italian feta and garlic cheese spread, leaving Hikaru and Katja to poke insults at the rest of the people around them. The latter had gone quiet, however, after spotting two people she had secretly hoped that she wouldn't.

Annemaria and Dieter Leterme, the prime minister of Belgium's children.

"Yeah, I'm fine," murmured Katja in reply, the side of her head resting against Hikaru's. "It's just…do you remember those two people that you met yesterday, the boy and girl, with the French accents?"

Hikaru's eyebrows shot up. "The Belgium prime minister's kids? The ones Kaoru had a fit over?"

"Yeah, Annemaria and Dieter," Katja confirmed, and Hikaru wrinkled his nose.

"What about them?"

"They're here, standing over by that large painting of the fat woman who looks like Otto von Bismarck."

At her words, Hikaru scanned the room, locating the painting Katja had so accurately described and the two teenagers in question. He recognized them immediately; the girl with blond curls and a pastel green dress, giggling and fanning herself while she leaned on her brother, who was also laughing with an arm another his her shoulders, the smile never reaching his dark eyes. There was something about them that Hikaru didn't like, and he didn't trust them in the slightest. As the son of a fashion tycoon, Hitachiin Hikaru had met his fair share of sharks and had developed an adept sense of recognizing them, and also, staying away from them. He knew he wasn't wrong in wanting to keep his distance from the Leterme children, and apparently, Katja felt the same.

"Wait a sec, I thought you and those snobs were friends or something," said Hikaru, remembering how Katja had defended Annemaria and Dieter the previous evening. Surely she couldn't have had a change of heart _that_ quickly….

"I wouldn't consider us friends, per se," replied Katja uncomfortably, straightening up and rolling her shoulders backwards with a series of pops and clicks. Hikaru flinched, but she ignored him, and proceeded to slouch back against the wall. "But their family has been beneficial to business, and they'd never commission me again if I wasn't polite."

"It's too bad you don't feel the same about us."

"Oh come on, I only do it because I love you guys," Katja snorted as she elbowed Hikaru in the side, and he brightened instantly.

"Really?" he prodded, a smirk curling his lips. "You love us, do you?"

"Sure, what's the big deal?"

"Nothing, nothing…."

"Well anyway," continued Katja, frowning slightly at the redhead's still twisted expression, "Annemaria and Dieter are fine, but they're unpredictable. They always have some sort of hidden agenda, and they spend half their time spitting venom. It doesn't help matters that they're the most powerful family in Belgium." She paused, taking a breath, but Hikaru interrupted before she could continue.

"So, in short, you don't like them as people, but you put up with them because they've been beneficial to you in the past?"

Katja blinked. "Well yes. What kind of person would I be if I acted otherwise? I wasn't aware that it was proper to turn a cold shoulder towards people who have been gracious to you."

"Even if _they're_ stabbing others in the back?" counted Hikaru swiftly, his smirk having long since disappeared. Katja did not respond immediately, but watched her friend thoughtfully for a moment and adjusted her sandy-colored hair, which was tied back in a loose knot at the base of her neck.

"Yes, Hikaru, because I'm better than that–"

"Bullshit!" the redhead declared loudly, causing several heads to turn in their direction, but Katja did nothing to quiet him. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine!"

"Of course I have," she replied patiently, "but that would be like putting the fat on the fire."

"That's a bit rich, coming from you," Hikaru snorted and Katja's brow dipped with indignation. "You put the fat in the fire quite often, as it were. I'm a living testament to that."

Turning away, Katja tipped her chin upwards and flashed Hikaru a sideways glare. "Well you're _equally _guilty of that," she riposted, her superior tone succeeding in infuriating him.

"Excuse me?" snapped Hikaru, leaning towards her angrily, but Katja refused to meet his eyes again, even while his nose was pressed against her cheek. "You're always the one who starts it."

"I most certainly am not."

"You are too!"

"Am not, not, _not_!"

"Are too, too, _too_!"

Mouth wide open for a less-than-clever retort involving four declarations of 'am not', Katja was cut off by a smug voice that could only belong to one person.

"Well don't you two sound like a married couple!"

The pair sobered immediately as Kaoru and Haruhi approached, scooting to opposite sides of the bench while the grin on Kaoru's face widened, the Japanese girl beside him munching a plate of sweet rice, chopsticks clicking quietly.

"I knew it was a bad idea to leave you two together," he sighed in false exasperation while Haruhi rolled her eyes. Taking a seat between the now stonily silent teens, Kaoru caught his brother's gaze, sending him a look that clearly said, _"See, I told you so!"_, and causing the redhead to flash a rather rude hand gesture at his twin. If there was one thing Hikaru couldn't stand, it was when Kaoru was right.

Which, incidentally, happened quite often.

"Hey, Katja," said Haruhi, unaware of the tense moment she was interrupting, tapping her bottom lip with her chopsticks thoughtfully, "did you see that your friends from Belgium are here, too? Kaoru and I walked past them before, so I thought you'd want to know…."

This innocent statement hovered heavily over the group like a for a moment, like a rain cloud threatening to drop its contents, and Haruhi watched in puzzlement as the delayed reaction unfolded; Kaoru's face went slack, Katja covered her eyes with a hand, and Hikaru whistled low, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like_ "Ouch" _under his breath. Glancing briefly at her three friends, Haruhi looked back across the room towards Annemaria and Dieter Leterme, whose existence Katja had explained while informing Haruhi of the impromptu Host Club meeting she had missed.

Well that was strange. Why would Katja bother to tell her about them if she didn't want to see or talk about them? Haruhi racked her brains for the answer, but her internal search-engine found nothing, only fruitlessly remembering that she had an algebra project to finish and something useless that Hikaru had recounted earlier that day about Kaoru. At this, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a little red flag went up and a tinny bell began ringing furiously at the oblivious girl to _pay the hell attention_.

Hold on a second….

"Oh yeah!" she said with a snap of her fingers, shifting to consider the younger Hitachiin on her left with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Kaoru, I forgot that you didn't like the Letermes. We don't have to talk about them if you don't want–"

"It's not him, Haruhi," interrupted Hikaru hastily, waving his hands and causing Katja to tip her head upwards and join Kaoru in staring at him in surprise. "Uh, it's me that doesn't like them, not Kaoru. You must have just got mixed up, Haruhi. We _are_ quite similar," he added with a wink and an elbow to the girl's side, and Haruhi nodded, contemplating.

It was probable; she hadn't exactly been listening to Hikaru at the time he had told her, and it was a reaction she'd expect more reasonably from the hotheaded Hikaru. Shrugging and deciding that it didn't matter (Hitachiin Hikaru not liking someone was hardly a new occurrence), the four teens relaxed back into a lull of comfortable conversation, and Hikaru amused Haruhi by pointing out the painting that Katja had said looked like Otto von Bismarck, causing both her and Kaoru to laugh, the latter making a smart comment about brainiac humor that earned him a poke in the arm from Katja.

"It's that 'brainiac humor' that is going to get you through your next test in world history, Kaoru Hitachiin!" she boasted with a smirk. "I know what kind of grade you have in that class, mister 'the-last-ruling-monarch-of-France-was-Jackie-Chan.'"

"It was a close guess, though, wasn't it? Louis the Sixteenth, Jackie Chan, they're almost the same person," replied Kaoru with a shrug. "Hey, don't look at me like that – Arai-sensei said she shot orange juice out her nose when she read it."

Hikaru was in awe, grabbing his brother's shoulders and giving them an excitable shake. "Seriously, Kaoru? She_ told_ you that?"

"Yeah, but it was only so she could explain why she was charging my register 20,000 yen for the stack of stationary ruined by the orange juice fountain _supposedly_ caused by my answer. _Supposedly_. But she's probably just trying to get back at us somehow for the crickets."

"Can you blame her?" said Haruhi, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. "You two filled her desk drawers with them, and she's phobic. That should've gotten you expelled."

The Hitachiins rolled their eyes simultaneously. "There was a reason we chose crickets, Haruhi. Although spiders might've been good, too."

"Ah yes, there's always next time…."

"Not during _my_ world history hour, there isn't!" exclaimed Katja suddenly, launching herself forwards off the bench, her face tight with fear as she eyed the twins, as if expecting said arachnids to begin crawling from their pockets. "I'll die if you do, I'll just die."

Hikaru and Kaoru grinned slyly at each other, watching with sadistic amusement as the color drained from Katja's already pale face. "Well in that case–"

"Ne, you're scared of spiders, Kat-chan?"

"Ah– eh, Mitsukuni?" Katja paused, looking downwards to see the golden haired Lolita shota peering out from behind her legs, ridiculously bright eyes gazing up at her questioningly. Katja felt something fold within her chest. Either that kid was very perceptive, or she was as see-through as a stripper's undergarments; there was no way he could have_ not_ known that she had a secret maternal side, with the way he was looking at her. Katja winched inwardly, and considering the metaphor, sincerely hoped that it was the former.

"'Scared' would be an understatement," she replied with a smile as she reached down and ruffled his yellow tresses, causing the seventeen year old to giggle like a child. Bending her knees, Katja crouched down so that she was level with Mitsukuni, who leaned forward and brushed his nose against her hers.

"It's okay, Kat-chan, I don't like spiders either," he replied cheerily, hitching the ever present plush pink rabbit further up his hip. "Except around Halloween, when our chef makes little spun sugar ones and sticks them in my breakfast. Otherwise Takashi squishes them for me. Right, Takashi?" added the blond, turning to peer over his shoulder at the tall, stoic teen behind him. The reply was nothing more than a nod, but Mitsukuni seemed satisfied all the same, and he whispered to Katja, "Takashi doesn't like spiders, too, but he'll never admit it."

"Maybe that's a good thing," she whispered back, and they both dissolved into giggles. Their banter was short lived, however, for when Mitsukuni, using their close proximity to his advantage, mouthed something against Katja's ear, she fell immediately silent and shook her head. Fortunately, this small exchange went mostly unnoticed when Kyouya and Tamaki joined the group, the latter proceeding to cause a small fuss over Haruhi. The only person who seemed to have noticed the brief bout was Kaoru, who was mildly distracted. There weren't many things the Lolita shota could have asked her about, and Kaoru was almost certain that it hadn't been about chocolate or spiders.

He did not have very long to dwell on the matter – apparently the kitchen disaster had been squared away, for men and women had begun filing through the now open ballroom doors at a leisurely pace, and Kyouya was insisting that they do the same.

"You four have been sitting over here sulking for too long already," he said in response to Hikaru's grumble, as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We were not_ sulking_!" came the simultaneous retort from Katja and Kaoru, the former of who was still removed, standing near Takashi and his sparkling counterpart. She didn't catch his gaze. This caused a rather sly look to cross Kyouya's face, and Tamaki fidgeted nervously beside him.

"Well _you_ were," he said with a smirk, nodding towards Kaoru as his brother latching onto his arm protectively. "The rest of us were together, being social, and you're all over here acting like a couple of–"

"Teenagers?" suggested Katja quietly from behind him.

"Precisely."

There was an awkward pause, and Katja toyed with the strap on her dress uncertainly. These were becoming far too familiar for her personal level of comfort; she didn't know what these long silences were supposed to convey. Wouldn't words be more useful? _Teenagers_…she would never understand.

"Of course we weren't sulking, you idiot," said Haruhi finally, rolling her eyes. "Since when has sitting and talking been defined as 'sulk'? Anyway, I didn't want Tamaki to make another scene like he did in the lounge."

The blond, who had been silently watching the exchange, now perked up. "'Scene'?" he repeated, sounding hurt as he stared imploringly at Haruhi, who merely raised an eyebrow. "What made you think I'd do that?"

"What, besides the fact that you usually _do_?"

"Do…do I embarrass you, Haruhi?"

Katja was baffled. What the hell was going on? This was completely out of normal character for the theatric Tamaki – why wasn't he a trembling puddle of purple jelly? He should have been, it's what had happened when scenes like this had played out in the past.

According to the similar episodes Katja had witnessed within the club and the "host profiles" that had been compiled on the club's website (which she had perused after having caught wind that_ she_ had her own section, _not_ because she had been interested, _thankyouverymuch_), Souh Tamaki should have, at this point, been pouting in a remote corner of the room while cultivating poisonous mushrooms. He _should not_ have been able to form a coherent question, response, or any other form of semi-intelligent speech, let alone earn himself a confused stare from the doe-eyed Haruhi.

"Do I?" Tamaki asked again, his voice carrying a noticeable edge when she did not respond. Haruhi dropped her eyes to her hands, folded in her lap, plate and chopsticks long forgotten on the carpet.

"Sometimes, I-I guess," she replied finally, unwilling to look up from her entwined fingers. This wasn't what Katja had been expecting. Tamaki…no, _the Host Club_ embarrassed her on a regular basis, and Haruhi ordinarily made no qualms about declaring this. Loudly.

Why wasn't she doing so now?

"I'm relieved to hear that it's only occasionally, then!" said Tamaki abruptly, cracking a sparkling smile. "I will certainly try harder to reduce that to 'sometimes' to 'never'." He paused, looking around at the rest of the hosts and Katja with an expression so happy it was painful, and Katja had to turn her head, fighting the desire to chew her nails. "Well what're we waiting for? Let's go inside already, I'm sure you're all hungry."

"Tamaki's right," agreed Kyouya, sounding as resolute as ever. "Come on, you lot."

There were no arguments this time as the group made its way towards the ballroom doors. A quick once-over revealed to Katja nothing but puzzled faces, including that of the usually chipper Mitsukuni, who was trailing behind with Takashi. Slightly less discreet were Kaoru and Hikaru, who were conversing in low tones with their heads inclined, an action that, had Haruhi been less dense, she would have noticed immediately.

Or perhaps she _did_ notice, mused Katja as the girl in question, who had been bringing up the rear, picked up her speed and fell into place beside her as they entered the large ballroom and the procession came to a halt at the end of a queue, where they were to wait for an employee to check their dinner tickets and escort them to their respectable tables. The two girls were jostled up behind the Hitachiins, who were still holding their tête-à-tête, unaware of the patches on the backs of their heads that Katja had scorched bald with her glare. Her assault was discontinued, however, when Haruhi gave a tug on her dress.

"Katja?" she whispered, peering inquisitively up at the German through her bangs. "I-I think may need your help."

"Oh really, with what?" Katja asked distractedly as she fished through her clutch for the slip of paper that had once been Kaoru's, wondering vaguely where Haruhi had kept hers, as she now held it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Well that's the thing," replied Haruhi. "I, uh, don't exactly_ know_."

At this, Katja gave her a confused glance and she closed her bag with a snap of the metallic clasp. She was about inquire further when a hand slid over her bare shoulder, and Katja glanced up to see Ootori Kyouya standing beside her, adjusting his glasses. She closed her mouth, feeling suddenly ill, and Katja could have sworn that inside her abdominal cavity, her stomach and liver were having a boxing match.

"Haruhi, why don't you go with Kaoru," Kyouya suggested, addressing the girl causally. "You're sitting at the same table, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes, we are," said Haruhi slowly, looking from Kyouya to Katja in surprise. "But Kyouya-senpai–"

"_C'mon, Haruhi_!" called Kaoru suddenly from his and the other hosts' position further down the line, which they had moved along without either of the girls' notice. She hesitated, not wanting to leave her friend in the Shadow King's clutches, but Katja waved her on.

"It's okay, Haruhi," she said with a nod. "Go sit with Kaoru, I'll be there in a second. And tell Hikaru, if he doesn't wait for me he'll wake up tomorrow on the North Pole with a steak tied around his neck."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Despite shooting another suspicious look over at Kyouya, Haruhi turned on her heel and began making her way towards the rest of the beckoning Host Club, motioning for them to stop waving. When Katja was sure she was out of earshot, she shrugged out from under the taller teen's hand and crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. Kyouya raised an eyebrow.

"And what do _you_ want?" she huffed. "You interrupted something, you know."

"Yes, I'm well aware," came the reply, "and that's why I came to talk to you."

"Well you could've at least waited until we sat down or something…"

"And have you give me the slip? No thank you," Kyouya countered swiftly, the dim light from the chandelier above reflecting off his lenses. He paused, bending over so that his face was level with Katja's, and she had to work not to take a step backwards. That's what he wanted, to know she was intimidated. And truthfully, Katja _was_, but there was no way she was going to consciously show it.

"It would be in the best interest of everyone, Katja, if you left things to their own devices," Kyouya continued, and while his voice soft, the threat was carried across just the same. That was the thing about him; he could stop a person's heart from fear with just one look. "It's what the rest of us have been doing, and what we were doing before you arrived. Yes, _all of us_, even Kaoru and Hikaru."

"But that's not what–" Katja snapped before she could stop herself, and when she did, there was a smirk on Kyouya's face. "I-I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, 'leaving things to their own devices.'"

"Since you obviously have no idea of the situation here, allow me to give you a bit of an insight," sighed Kyouya, his breath rippling across Katja's neck and causing her to shudder in discomfort. "Takashi, Mitsukuni, Kaoru, Hikaru, and myself all know that Tamaki has unrealized feelings for Haruhi – it's a fact that we've known for some time. Hikaru, however, also has feelings for her, something else that you've figured out, no doubt."

"It wasn't exactly difficult," quipped Katja, and Kyouya chuckled.

"Yes well, that's Hikaru, very straightforward about everything and anything. Rather like yourself, wouldn't you agree?"

"Guess that explains our frequent clashes of personality, huh."

"All pig-headedness aside," continued Kyouya, a comment that made Katja roll her eyes out of sheer irony, "regardless of how Hikaru sees Haruhi, he has and always will have her happiness in mind, and should she happen to also have feelings for Tamaki, he won't intervene. Neither will any of the other hosts, myself included, and neither will you."

It wasn't a question, it was a command.

"How do you know that?" hissed Katja. "From what I've seen, Hikaru's personality would never allow something like that to happen."

"Katja, have you ever thought of the possibility that you may not know Hikaru as well as you think you do? You have been in Japan for barely a week, and you're already making decisions based off the way you think someone may act? Really, what an irresponsible thing to do, I had placed more faith in you than that."

"Don't you dare talk to me about irresponsibility, Ootori," she snarled, jabbing a finger none-too-gently into his shoulder. "My family's livelihood is dependant on the money my commissions bring in, meaning that I have to make the best impression I can on people in a short period of time. It doesn't take me long to figure out a person's personality, and I had you all read the instant I walked through that music room door. Even without that, you're teenagers, and your traits are textbook material."

"You forget, my dear, that not only are you also a teenager, but we humans are not 'textbook' creatures," replied Kyouya as he straightened and looped his arm with Katja's, much to her discontent. But he pulled her along easily, as she was intelligent enough to know_ not_ to make a scene, and he went on. "People are not bound to a set of God-given traits, and while you may not have experienced it yet, they sometimes disobey their usual nature and do things they normally wouldn't."

To this, Katja had nothing to say. It was something she had not considered, but the more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Would Hikaru give up Haruhi if she came to terms with her feelings for Tamaki? They were friends, weren't they, and friends cared about each other's wants and needs. If being with Tamaki made Haruhi happy, was it so absurd that Hikaru would allow it? And then there was Kaoru; although he was Hikaru's brother and had his best interest in mind, he was also Haruhi's friend. He had even said himself that whatever Haruhi wanted, that was fine with him. As friends, was it so crazy that they would set aside their own selfish desires for Haruhi's (and Tamaki's) sake? Katja knew the answer, and that answer was no. No, it _wasn't _crazy, and _yes_ they _would_. She knew this, because she would have done the same for any of them.

In fact, she almost had, but Kyouya already knew that. There was, however, one thing that he did not know, something Katja was more than ready to point out.

"I hadn't thought about that," she said, looking back up at the Ootori and giving him a small smile. "I'm not saying that I'm wrong, but…that's an option I had not taken into account." Kyouya opened his mouth to reply, but Katja continued before he had gotten the words out. "But there is one factor _you_ have failed to recognize."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"You all seem to be so caught up in if Tamaki has yet realized his feelings for Haruhi, none of you have noticed that _she's_ beat him to it. Haruhi is, and has been for some time, coming to terms with the fact that she sees Tamaki as more than just a friend."

"Really?" inquired Kyouya, managing to appear mildly interested now. "How do you know?"

"She told me," Katja replied with a shrug. At this, Kyouya's eyebrow both went up in surprise. "Is that hard to believe?"

"If by that you mean Haruhi realizing this before Tamaki, then no, it's hardly surprising," he said with a shake of his head. "She's may be dense, but Haruhi's no idiot, whereas Tamaki is both. What does surprise me, however, if the fact that she has chosen to confide in you."

Katja nodded her quiet agreement. "While I would normally agree with you, Haruhi is desperate for advice – if I hadn't been around, I can see her going to Kaoru. But then again, she did say something about a person named Mei, or at least I think it's a person…."

"So this is serious, then," murmured Kyouya, pausing and allowing the man charged with the duty of checking tickets to glance over his. When Katja's had also been approved, she gave him a crafty smile that he could appreciate.

"I'd say so."

There was a pause in which nothing was exchanged between the young man in black and the young woman in blue but smirks, and had a passerby the misfortune to stray close enough to catch a glimpse of their faces, they would have been most likely been reminded of two serial killers plotting their next murder victim. Katja held Kyouya's stare for a moment longer before she detached her arm from his, rubbing the skin for loss of warmth and jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

"I think my table is over there. I've got a Hitachiin to scare; he didn't wait for me."

"Pass my condolences along to the poor boy."

Another grin. "Thank you."

There was a trading of eye rolls and Katja was about to turn away when Kyouya said her name again and she peered over at him curiously, waiting for a continuation.

"Yes?"

"Can I trust that you have thought better of carrying out whatever it was you were scheming?"

"Me, _scheming_?" she repeated with an exaggerated flinch, curling her wrists up to her chest. "Coming from you, Kyouya, that means a great deal. While the answer to that question is yes, don't go trusting me just yet; I have _altered my angle_, as it were."

Kyouya couldn't help but chuckle, inclining his head in understanding. "You sound like mademoiselle Renge now more than ever."

"No worries there, my friend," replied Katja casually as she pivoted on high-heeled toe and waved a hand over her shoulder. "I am nowhere near as obvious with my intentions as her."

* * *

When Katja finally managed to reach the table that her ticket number was assigned to, she found Hikaru leaning his chair back on its rear legs and shooting sour looks at the other six unfortunate patrons who had also been allocated to the table. There was an empty seat on either side of Hikaru, and Katja gathered her dress in her hands when she had made heads over the situation, hurrying not only for the sake of her reputation (she _was _being see with Hikaru in public, after all), but for that of Hikaru's extremely short temper.

"Hey," she breathed as she slid into the vacant chair on the Hitachiin's left. "Sorry about leaving you by yourself."

"What the hell were you doing?" Hikaru hissed back, fixing her with an amber glare. "And with _Kyouya_, no less."

"Oh, he just wanted to talk about something," Katja replied easily, and she flashed a grin at the other men and women positioned around the table. "Wow, the décor is really gorgeous in here. Are we hosting the president or something?"

This statement earned her some tentative smiles, and even several sighs of relief at the fact that she obviously wasn't as hostile as her companion. Adjusting her dress over her legs, Katja took a quick sip from the tumbler of ice water that had been placed next to the sparkling china on the table in front of her. "Well if the president _did_ make an appearance, I'd be terribly embarrassed – with this dress, I'd vanish against the wall! You know, it's moments like this that make me hate irony."

A couple of laughs this time. Katja mentally congratulated herself, giving Hikaru a sideways look that said, _"You owe me." _ His response to this was wicked grin that said, had she been less colorful herself, something Katja would have blushed to think of.

"You have an interesting accent," said a Japanese woman across the table in crisp English, considering Katja with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "May I inquire as to where you are from?"

"I was born and raised in Germany," she replied. "English is my second language."

"Germany, really?" someone else asked. "That's a long way to travel for a cruise."

"Oh no, I came to Japan for schooling."

"For university?"

"Not quite yet, we're still in high school," said Katja, poking Hikaru's side and causing him to recoil. "We go to Ouran Academy."

"Oh yes, my children go there as well."

"Mine too."

"So how do you like Ouran?" asked a man to Hikaru's right. "You're a foreign exchange student, correct?"

At this, Katja had to press her palm to her cheek to keep from laughing. "I suppose you could say that."

As the conversation continued, more people from the table began to participate, asking questions about each other and occasionally make jokes. It had even stretched into comfortable territory by the time their dinner orders had been taken and names were soon shared. Hikaru, however, chose to keep relatively quiet, and if Katja noticed (which he was sure she did; she always caught things like that), she said nothing about it. Normally, Hikaru knew that people who could afford to take such a cruise would have politely avoided speaking to one another, but that was one Katja's charms; she _made_ you want to talk to her.

He listened as she talked the way she did when they were in the Host Club, somehow managing to sound completely interested in what she was being told. But maybe she was, Hikaru reasoned as he chewed a piece of grilled mahimahi. She was like Tamaki in that aspect, but that was a fact that every host knew was never to be spoken aloud.

Hikaru especially, he personally liked his teeth where they were.

After the entrées had been cleared away, the desserts were brought out, and it was upon the appearance of which that Katja's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Most of the sweets placed on the table were of the fruit torte variety, something that Hikaru knew the German girl would not take quietly. But with one word and a smile to one of the waiters, a huge piece of chocolate cake with rich frosting and sugared violets materialized out of nowhere, an event the other men and women at their table chose to ignore. As Katja attacked the pastry, somehow still managing to look civil, Hikaru couldn't help but roll his eyes. It wouldn't matter if Goldsmith Katja was rich or not, she had means of getting what she wanted without financial leverage. Which was rather ironic, he realized with a smirk, considering that she pretended to be above that sort of thing.

And speaking of which...

Hikaru shifted over in his chair, squinting across the room to where he knew Kaoru and Haruhi's table was located. Even at his distance, he could see two familiar heads, one orange and the other brunette. When Haruhi raised a hand and ran it through her hair, Hikaru felt his stomach turn over, suddenly wondering what it would feel like if _he _were to do that.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Jerking out of his Haruhi-induced stupor, Hikaru glanced over to see Katja watching him with a concerned frown. When he said nothing, she followed his line of vision his her grey eyes, shaking her head slightly when she deduced what he'd been staring at.

"You've been awfully quiet this evening," she continued, and Hikaru noticed that the couples at the table had taken to conversing amongst themselves in a friendly manner. Maybe Kyouya _did_ know what he was doing with her… "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hikaru replied truthfully. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I didn't have anything to add."

"Oh I'm sorry, Hikaru," said Katja abruptly with an apologetic smile. "Sometimes I don't when realize when I'm, you know, chatting people up. I didn't mean to ignore you." She paused, grimacing. "It's not even natural, it's just been engraved into my brain that that's how I have to make 'friends'. It's endearing for someone like Haruhi, but–"

"Would you shut up already?" interrupted Hikaru, halting her rambles with a thumb to her lips. "You say such idiotic things sometimes. Besides, don't ever compare yourself to Haruhi. That's just cruel."

"To whom, me or her?" Katja asked wryly, tipping her head away from his hand.

"You, of course."

"Yes, well, therein lies the truth."

When Hikaru laughed, Katja spied an opportunity to ask the question she had been waiting to ask ever since she had finished her conversation with Kyouya. While what he had said made sense, Katja needed more confirmation, and she needed it from the mouth of the horse. And there was only one way she was going to get the answer she wanted…

"Hikaru, what would you do if Haruhi loved Tamaki?"

The redhead's laughter ceased immediately, and he gaped at her as though she had stealthily grown a mustache when he hadn't been looking. She waited. The seconds ticked by in silence. Still nothing. Ever the impatient one when it came to Hikaru, Katja drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

"Are…are you serious?" Hikaru said finally, sounding bewildered.

"Why would I ask if I didn't want an answer?"

"Why must you answer a question with a question?" he groaned. "D'you know how annoying that is?"

"Yes," Katja responded flatly.

"Why do you want to know, is what I mean to ask." His eyes widened suddenly. "Wait, _does_ she love Tamaki, is that why you're asking? Did Haruhi tell you or something?"

"No, no, no," reassured Katja, patting Hikaru's shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner. She wasn't ready to tell him what Haruhi _had_ told her, and while realistically Katja doubted he ever would be ready to hear it, now was obviously not the best time. "It's nothing like that. You see, Kyouya said something to me earlier, about you and your brother, and it made me wonder. That's all."

"Jeez, Katja," said Hikaru as he rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "I haven't really thought about that. Kaoru and I only ever talked about Tamaki–"

"Yes, I know, which is why I'm bringing it up."

Despite feeling slightly suspicious of her, Hikaru knew that, save for Kaoru, she was his only honest link to Haruhi. Kaoru trusted her, and if his brother thought her reliable, well then, she had to be. And then there was the possibility that, maybe, if he answered, she'd be willing to listen to a few of his own inquires.

Besides, what was one harmless question?

"What would I do if Haruhi loved Tamaki," repeated Hikaru as he brought his elbow up to rest against the table's edge and balanced his chin on his wrist. He thought for a moment, fixing Katja with a curious look, but she merely blinked. "I suppose I would do what anyone else in my position would do; let her love him. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing I would like more than to have Haruhi as my girlfriend, but she's also one of my _best friends_. And so is Tamaki. If being with him would make her happy, then that's what I would what." He paused and chortled for a moment, as if surprised by his own revelation. "I…I could never stand to see Haruhi sad, even if it would make me so. It's because I love her, and I would put her well-being before mine any day."

When Hikaru had finished talking, neither he more Katja seemed to know exactly what to say next. Conversations went on around them and several minutes had passed before Katja breathed a sigh and gave Hikaru the truest smile he had yet seen on her face.

"That may just be the sincerest thing I've ever heard you say," she said, and there was nothing but contentment in her voice. "Granted I've only known you for a week…"

Hikaru cracked a smirk. "No, it's probably true."

"Probably, but I was trying to be coy, since we're on nonviolent terms and all."

"Well when you go saying stuff like that, you're kind of asking for it," he replied, giving her arm a gentle pinch for good measure, receiving an open-palmed touch against his cheek in return.

"Okay, okay, enough messing around," he laughed, swatting her hand away. "There's something _I _want to ask _you_." Upon seeing her about to protest, Hikaru added, "Hey, I answered your question now you have to answer mine. It's only fair."

"Oh what do you know about fairness?" Katja grumbled as she took a sip from her water. "Fine, fine, _one_ question. And it had better not be anything stupid."

"It's not. So, what's going on between you and Kaoru?"

Regardless of anything she could have possibly said, Hikaru found the reply he needed when Katja began to choke on the liquid she still had in her mouth, a scene that was familiar in a very non-coincidental way. The Hitachiin gave her one thump on the back and she swallowed, breathing slowly returning to its normal rate as Hikaru waved away the worried looks they were getting from the other guests at the table.

"There isn't anything going on between your brother and I," Katja replied when she had found her voice again before taking another careful drink of water. Upon noticing Hikaru's skeptical expression, she frowned accusingly. "What gives you reason to think otherwise, hmm?"

"Well let's see," said Hikaru as he tapped his chin in mock thought, much to Katja's irritation, "only that the both of you gabber like idiots when you're around each other, and half the time the only thing Kaoru talks about when you're not around _is_ you. _You're_ less volatile when you're with Kaoru, and oh, when I asked him the same question, he nearly died on his water as well."

With that, he clunked his fist against the table. "I rest my case."

She knew that he was provoking her, and that she was only proving his point by retorting, but the smug smirk that had curled across Hikaru's lips was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. "Those are hardly legitimate–"

"Say whatever you want, Katja," he cut in with a shrug, "you're only adding confirmation by denying it."

"That doesn't make any sense," she scoffed.

"Doesn't have to, it's still just as true."

As the two continued to bicker, the couples from their table began slowly pushing back their chairs, meandering towards the opposite end of the room where a classical quartet had set up in one large group, preferring to leave the teenagers to their now solitary spat. It was only when the low, melodic hum of a bow gliding over metal strings drifted over the ballroom that Katja and Hikaru took notice of the fact that they were now alone. The former perked up immediately.

"I know that song, it's The Waltz in E-flat Major by Chopin…."

Getting to her feet and teetering slightly on her stiletto heels (which she was now regretting to have worn), Katja peered down the long room to where the majority of the gala attendees had gathered, revolving round in time to the music in what could be correctly described as dance. The remark considering their obliviousness never left her lips, however, for a figure sidled up beside her and slung its arm around her shoulders, and Katja found herself pressed into a side she recognized. In any case, there was only one person it could have been.

"Are you enjoying your evening, Tamaki?" asked Katja as she brushed strands of hair from her face. Looking up, she was relived to see nothing but joviality in his round, Prussian eyes. The blond nodded and gave her arm a squeeze.

"Certainly, my sweet Fräulein Goldsmith," he said, in a dramatic way that only Souh Tamaki could execute. "I trust the same can be said for you?"

"Mhmm," replied Katja, leaning into his touch slightly. "Tonight has proved itself interesting in multiple ways."

The reference was of course lost on Tamaki and he continued to beam down at her. "Katja, could I ask your opinion of something?"

"Sure."

Dipping his head, Tamaki brought his mouth level with her ear with the pretense that he was about reveal some great secret; it was apparent that he had never been taught the meaning of the word 'obtrusive'. Katja silently prayed that he never aspired to join the police force.

"Would you say that the Hitachiins are easier to control when they're together, or separate?" he queried, speaking so quickly that his words began to slur together. "I feel I must ask; they are hardly ever apart, and I am in need of more knowledge as to the hooligans' weaknesses."

He could not have been more serious if he had just asked Katja to marry him.

"Oh definitely when they're apart," Katja whispered in return, mimicking his somber tone and glancing over the blond's shoulder at Hikaru, who was now drilling holes into Tamaki's back. "They are by far less troublesome when the other is not present. But please, Tamaki, don't tell them I said that – they'll have my head."

"You needn't worry, princess," he replied with a wink. "My gallant nature would never such a thing!"

"That's a funny adjective to use," muttered Katja, but Tamaki seemed to not have heard her. "So anyway, was that all you, uh, wanted to ask me?"

"Mm, pardon? Oh, excuse my manners, I had forgotten!" he exclaimed suddenly, moving with such speed that she barely had time to blink before Tamaki was in front of her, face inches away with her hand clutched against his chest. It was a feat that she had seen the Host King perform many times, but she had sincerely hoped that he would be one to spare her. It was a foolish hope, however, because it was something close to common knowledge that no one was safe from Tamaki's "attacks of affection" – an appropriate term coined by none other than Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru. They seemed to have a knack for that sort of thing, and she wondered briefly about how many copyrights the Host Club must have owned….

Oh yes, Katja could see a coronary thrombosis episode not far off in her future.

"Would you grant me the pleasure of a dance?"

In the _very near_ future.

"Why not," she replied, feeling lightly disorientated by her reflection in his eyes. Turning her head carefully as to avoid bumping noses, Katja raised her eyebrows at Hikaru, who at this point was doing a very good job of feigning sleep. "You want to come, too, Sleeping Beauty?"

"You two go, I'll be there in a minute," came the lazy response, and Hikaru waggled his fingers at her without bothering to open his eyes. This was evidently good enough a reply for Tamaki, for he swept off without hesitation. Peering back over her shoulder, Katja could now see that nearly every table was deserted with the exception of a few people sitting here and there throughout. As she narrowed her eyes, she noticed that other hosts were nowhere to be found, meaning that they had either left completely, or that they were currently waltzing along in the crowd that Tamaki had led her into, the latter being the more likely.

"Do you know the waltz?" Tamaki asked, a white-clad arm sliding smoothly around her waist as he lifted her hand upwards. Making a small sound of indigence, Katja placed her arm along his, bring her palm to rest lightly over his shoulder, the fabric of his jacket barely brushing her bare skin.

"Of course I know the waltz," she said haughtily, but the small smile curving her lips gave her away. "The only question that remains whether or not _you_ know how to lead."

"You forget to whom you speak," all was the riposte she received before Tamaki took his first step forward and Katja tiptoed backward, and the dance began.

It was a fairly simple matter for someone who had been dancing ballroom since she was a child, the counting and turns of the waltz, and Katja had to admit, Tamaki was an obviously talented dancer. Their feet never collided, and he spun without thought, the silent effortlessness of his movements punctuated only by the rustle of blue silk. This gave Katja the opportunity to seek out the other hosts, and as Tamaki turned her round, she surveyed the couples passing by with all the nonchalance of a courtier.

"Hey Katja, Milord!" said a voice she recognized from behind and with a quarter rotation, she found herself facing Kaoru (or at least, that's which Hitachiin she assumed he was) and Haruhi, the latter looking rather comical against her partner, who was a good two heads taller. "We were beginning to wonder when you'd show up!" A pause, more measured steps. "Where's Hikaru?"

"He said he was coming," Katja replied quickly. "Hey, I didn't know you could dance, Haruhi."

"She can't," remarked Kaoru, and Haruhi nodded her mild confirmation. "Although I'm surprised you can, Katja; you're usually quite the klutz."

"Yes well, you know what they say," she said with a sardonic smile. "Expect the unexpected."

Before either of them could say more, they disappeared again into the sea of bodies, and Katja glanced up at Tamaki, who was looking after the pair with a slightly pained expression. Running her hand along the line of his shoulder, Katja shook her head and sighed softly, causing Tamaki to give her a questioning arch of his flaxen eyebrows. It didn't take a genius to tell that he was imagining twirling Haruhi in circles, hands clasped around her small waist, not realizing that these feelings were hardly fatherly.

"Hey Tamaki," she said suddenly, "would you mind if I sat for a bit? My feet are really killing me…."

"Oh of course!" he gasped as he came to a halt mid-turn. "Would you like me to carry you to a chair?"

"No, no, my legs are still in working order. And unfortunately, so is my self-respect. But, there is something you could do for me…"

"Anything to help a maiden in distress!"

"When the next song starts, would you ask Haruhi if she'd dance with you?"

"Ah yes!" Tamaki exclaimed, and he held up a finger as though the inspiration had only just struck him. "A brilliant idea. But…do you think she'd agree?"

"Yes, Tamaki," Katja twinkled knowingly. "She most certainly will."

* * *

**(A/N) **_Warning:_ from this point onwards, the teenage angst will be taking a backseat to teenage romance. We can only hope that this is good news. Wish the stupid manga would do the same….


	10. The Great Transatlantic Glacier Race

**(A/N) **I was in Germany for a couple of months. Dicking around. In other words, not writing.

* * *

_ A heartbeat skip, relationship  
Inside a bubble bath_

_An icing drip below your lip.  
_

* * *

The Great Transatlantic Glacier Race

The morning after the late-run gala presented itself with a mottled winter sky, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, wafted up through the decks from the kitchens, and most unpleasantly, the roar of the cruise ship's horn.

Unfortunately for Katja Goldsmith, it was the latter of these three things that caused her to shriek with surprise as she tumbled out of bed, landing with a dull thud on the wooden floorboards below. Limbs spread eagle around her, she cracked open her eyes to stare up at the cream-colored ceiling as the ship's horn continued its mocking blast. Katja remained motionless on the cold floor while her scrambled brain struggled to piece together the situation, and when it had, one _long_ minute later, she rolled over and pulled herself up by way of the bed sheets, spine crackling as she struggled to her feet.

"Well damn," she muttered, rubbing her hands over the flannel arms of her pajamas, glancing back over her shoulder towards the second bed that occupied the cabin, but there were no signs of movement. The Japanese girl buried within its down cushions and Egyptian cotton was obviously still fast asleep.

Taking a step forward across the chilled floor, Katja grabbed the handle of the open glass balcony door and slid it closed with a none-too-quiet slam, hardly caring if the noise woke Haruhi; it was just as much her fault as it was Katja's that it had been left open.

Running her thumb absently over the metal frame, Katja thought back to the previous night, to after the gala, when she and Haruhi had stumbled back into the room, both giggly and loud, the result of one too many glasses of dessert wine. In their haze, the pair had ended up on the balcony, singing drunken German lullabies out across the ocean with arms around each other's neck until crawling off to bed with burning throats, neither remembering such a trifle duty as closing the door.

Groaning in self-annoyance, Katja slapped her forehead. If they _had_ remembered, the horn wouldn't have woken her.

After locking the door with a click, Katja moved away with the intention of returning to the warmth of her bed, looking up as she turned to catch a startling glimpse of Alaskan shore the through the glass. She froze and did a double take, brushing her unruly hair from her eyes, blinking several times to make sure she was seeing correctly. Indeed, she was. Moving forward, she pressed her nose against the door, breath fogging the glass as she stared out at the coastline that was dotted with rocks and fishing boats, bobbing like corks in the frothy surf.

They were in Valdez.

"Haruhi, _Haruhi_! Katja exclaimed, bounding away from the door. "You have to see this!"

Leaping up into the air, she bounced atop her bed, using the mattress as a spring to propel her onto that of the unsuspecting commoner, who let out a pained yell when the assaulting German landed, hard, atop her knees.

"Sorry, that wasn't your face, was it?" she apologized quickly.

"Unfortunately, no," mumbled a unseen voice from under the covers as Katja climbed carefully from the bed. Grabbing the hem of the duvet, she whipped it back from the mattress and up over her head, leaving Fujioka Haruhi to reflexively curl in upon herself like an overturned pill bug.

"It's time to get up!" Katja chirped, causing Haruhi to groan and bury her face in the pillow. "We're finally here."

She didn't budge. "Give me the damn comforter back, Katja," came the muted response. "It's freezing in here."

"Too bad I wasn't the _only_ one who forgot to close the balcony door last night," replied Katja pointedly to the back of Haruhi's head.

"Oh…yeah."

"But that's neither here nor there," she continued, brushing it aside with an impatient wag of her fingers. "We're both awake now, and I plan to disembark this ship as soon as humanly possible."

"Meaning…?"

"That you're coming with me."

"But it's only s-seven t-t-thirty," Haruhi yawned as she finally sat up, knowing all too well that it was the only way to prevent Katja from launching a full-fledged attack, water-balloons included. Tapping the watch still strapped round her wrist, she crossed her legs and stretched her arms over her head before sending the German an impatiently skeptical look. "We were all out late last night, and I doubt that any of the other hosts are up–"

"Yes, that's a fair point," interrupted Katja, and she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. But then she shrugged uncaringly, disappearing for a moment behind the edge of the bed as she bent over. "Oh well. Nothing else to do then but wake them."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Haruhi, raising her eyebrows at Katja when she reappeared, down comforter draped over her head and clasped under her chin like an Inuit. "Didn't you ever wonder why Hikaru, Kaoru, and Tamaki-senpai call Kyouya and Hunny-senpai the Dark Lords?"

"Not really," said Katja with another shrug. "I can see why they'd refer to Kyouya as such, and as for Mitsukuni…well, it_ is_ Tamaki and the twins; you can't blame me for not taking what they say very seriously."

"No, no, they're right on the money with this one," confirmed Haruhi with a grimace. "I've seen it myself, and I can assure you that Kyouya and Hunny-senpai are anything but agreeable in the morning."

"Kyouya's not an agreeable person, _period_," Katja remarked with a snort. "Regardless, I'm sure I can handle a couple of crabby teenage boys."

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," said Haruhi as she watched Katja stride across the floor towards the cabin door, still clad in her pajamas, the stolen duvet trailing behind her like a train. "And give that back already!"

"I don't think so," she replied over her shoulder with a sly smile, unlocking the door and popping it open. "You'll just go back to sleep if I leave it."

Without sticking around to hear the retort, Katja slipped out into the corridor and closed the door quickly behind her, leaving a disgruntled Haruhi to compliantly slouch off into the washroom, mumbling about over-zealous, hypocritical Germans all the while. Turning the silver dials of the shower, she pondered silently how was the best way to comfort a person who had been emotionally scarred in more ways than one.

The only lead she could come up with began 'ice' and ended with 'cream'.

Outside in the hall, Katja was shuffling across the plush carpet towards the four cabins she knew were occupied by the other members of the Host Club. Thankfully, it appeared that she was the only one who was awake and roaming the corridors; Katja knew she looked a fright with puffy eyes still smeared with makeup, tangled hair, hardened from large amounts of hairspray, and a stolen duvet over her head.

Although, she thought, as she paused outside one of said cabins, the male members of the Club would probably benefit a surprise like that. Not all girls looked like Haruhi in the morning….

Without knowing whose room it was she was breaking into, Katja tried the door handle, not surprised to find it unlocked. She opened it silently, the dark room lit only by chunks of sunlight filtering through the Venetian blinds, creating patterns of muted gold across the parquet. The cabin looked more or less the same as the one she had just come from, save for the positioning of the furniture and personal possessions. Or, in the latter's case, lack therefore. Katja scanned the room for clues as to who was currently occupying it, and blinked in quiet disbelief when she found none. The cabin was spotless, leaving no indication as to its guest, which struck Katja as extremely odd, considering it the possibilities.

Closing the door carefully, Katja pulled the duvet back over her head and dropped it beside her on the floor before beginning her soundlessly creep towards the large bed set against the opposite wall. As she examined the large mount protruding from the center of the mattress, hidden by sheets, Katja concluded that there was either one host in the bed, or two very close together. Pushing back thoughts that would have made a normal person gag, she decided that she sincerely hoped it was the former.

After a moment's deliberation of the best way to go about awaking the unnamed host, Katja chose to use a technique similar to the one she had used on Haruhi. Grinning in a way that would have put the morning sun to shame, she grabbed the hem of the comforter and whipped it back, completely unaware of what awaited her.

Almost immediately there was a bang like a gunshot, and a burst of rainbow confetti and streamers rocketed upwards to ricochet off the ceiling and nail Katja directly in the face. Blinded and screeching like a banshee, she stumbled backwards; effectively tangling her feet in the linen she had torn from the bed. Unable to fight gravity, Katja tripped, landing face first on the floor with a dull thud as the colored paper swirled down around her.

The first thing Katja became aware of after the ringing in her ears had finally faded was the laughter, pressing against her eardrums with an ironic familiarity.

"That was _hi-lari-ous_!" either Hikaru or Kaoru Hitachiin chortled. "It's been three years since we've successfully pulled that one off…I had forgotten how funny it used to be."

"We were a little worried at first when we thought you were Haruhi, you see, because she's not surprised by anything. But, hey, I think you've got something on your face…"

It was upon this prompting that she noticed the metallic-tasting liquid slowly filling her mouth.

There was a snapping of fingers, and Katja glanced up to see the twin Hitachiin brothers peering down at her from their perch on the edge of the mattress. Beside them was what appeared to be a ceramic elephant, a single incriminating streamer still stuck to its painted trunk.

"Wait a second, Katja," began Kaoru, sensing the imminent danger, but the damage was done. It took her a moment to process the information, but when she had, her time-bomb anger overrode the fact that her nose was streaming blood down her chin.

"YOU ARE BOTH _DEAD_!" Katja screamed as she jumped to her feet before proceeding to tackle the pair, causing ribbons of crimson to fly everywhere.

The cabin was suddenly filled with shouts in a multitude of languages, Katja pummeling everything within reach (most of which was down pillow) as she yelled in German, the Hitachiins yelling back in both English and Japanese, although neither seemed to have any real effect on the woman possessed.

The three teens rolled across the mattress as they fought to gain the position of power, but it was two against one, and it was only a matter five seconds before Katja found herself pinned, one pair of hands for each of her wrists. Had she not shocked the twins with her abrupt attack, it would have only taken two.

"Jeez, Katja, are you alright?" asked one of the twins, leaning close with an expression of the utmost concern. "Your nose is bleeding everywhere!"

"_Of course_ she's alright; she assaulted us, didn't she?" the other added indignantly. "Made a huge mess, as well. Just _look_!"

The room around them was something comparable to a scene of a horror movie. There was blood everywhere; pooled on the wooden floor, splashed across the sheets, there was even long smear across the wallpaper, not to mention that her tackle had drenched all three of them in it. To a causal observer, it would appear as though someone had lost a limb, not been the butt of an attack by a clumsy teenager with an explosive temper and a penchant for the floorboards.

All trifle facts, in Katja's opinion.

"You can blame your small _atom bomb_ for that," Katja snapped through the blood that had stained her mouth crimson.

"Well I place the blame on your own klutziness," retorted the twin who could only be Hikaru. "What're you doing sneaking in here, anyway? Hoping to see us naked, I bet. C'mon Katja, I thought you were smart; all you have to do was _ask_–"

"Hikaru, could you go get something to mop this up with?" Kaoru cut in quickly, expertly avoiding another row as Katja's nostrils flared like a baited bull's. And thankfully, Hikaru heeded his brother's intervention and got up, slouching across the cabin towards the washroom closet in search of a clean towel.

"You had better hope it's not broken," scolded Kaoru darkly as he pulled Katja into a sitting position beside him, crossing his own legs Indian style. "Lean your head back, it'll help stop the bleeding."

Katja obeyed.

"Good," he sighed, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand in exasperation. "Because if you broke your own nose because you_ tripped_, so help me…."

"But you–" she tried vainly, but the words died on her tongue when Kaoru gave her a look that could have singed her eyebrows.

"I _what_?"

Katja clammed up immediately; an angry Kaoru was a dangerous Kaoru.

Nodding his acceptance of her albeit reluctant submission, Kaoru scooted forward on the mattress, a knee bumping into Katja's in a way she was almost sure was intentional. He hooked a finger under her to hold her head in place before shooing away her hand. Face oddly slack, Kaoru ran his thumb along the edge of her nose and pressed against the bridge, checking for any bumps, executing the action with a tenderness Katja would not have expected from anyone but her mother.

It should have only taken Kaoru one touch of her nose to conclude that it was most certainly not broken, but he continued to examine her face as though in doubt. He turned her head from side to side, scrutinizing every inch; his carefully narrowed eyes making Katja feel unusually self-conscious.

It was a peculiar sensation, and Katja knew she should have slapped his hands away, but even she couldn't have denied that she was reveling in the sudden attention. It was only when his exploring fingertips trailed over the thin skin of her bottom lip that she forced herself to tilt her head away. Simply imaging the look of botched glee on Hikaru's face if he had seen _that_…it made her nauseous.

"Find anything wrong with my nose?" Katja asked, managing to inject a convincing amount of cynicism into her voice, and she raised her eyebrows out of false curiosity.

"Nope, it's perfectly alright," replied Kaoru simply, as if ignorant to her sarcasm. "Such a relief, too; I don't know how I could have forgiven myself if you had marred your beautiful face."

Katja snorted with laughter.

"Now you're just making fun of me," she snickered, rolling her eyes. Kaoru's expression remained impassive, however, as he reached over, placing both hands carefully on either side of her face, and she quickly fell silent.

"I wasn't making fun; I was being completely serious," he said, tilting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes, struggling not to smirk. At this, Katja frowned, but she made no attempts to elbow him away.

"Don't play host with me–"

"Katja, Katja," Kaoru interrupted smoothly in a chiding tone, tapping his thumbs against her jaw, not bothering to open his eyes, "have you ever _once_ considered the possibility that I might actually _care_?"

Katja could not reply immediately; there seemed to be something wrong with her mouth. "Sort of, but you…you're part of the Host Club," she said finally, faltering; she was searching for a foothold now. "It's what occupies ninety-five percent of your time. What else am I _supposed_ to think?"

"Well you're obviously not as intelligent as you think you are if you can't distinguish real emotions from fake ones," he retorted, and he could feel Katja's cheeks flare red under his palms. Whether it from was from anger or embarrassment, Kaoru didn't know, but it didn't matter.

For him, it was checkmate.

"Sorry about that, kiddo," announced Hikaru suddenly from the washroom, causing Katja to jump half out of her skin as she pushed Kaoru's hands from her face as her senses returned. The quiet was broken when he came back into the room a moment later, kicking the door on his way for emphasis. "I had to actually climb _in_ the linen closet to find this."

"Oh…thanks," she replied awkwardly, taking the washcloth from him and subsequently squashing her nose with it, despite the fact that it had already stopped bleeding. "I-I had really be going now, Haruhi will wonder what happened," Katja said hurriedly, nearly tripping again as she propelled herself from the bed, only to be caught by Hikaru. "Uh, thanks, Hikaru. And sorry for making such a mess; you can just say that it was my fault."

"Huh, leaving so soon?" asked Kaoru contritely from behind, and Katja had to grit her teeth, a fact that Hikaru noticed. He shot a demure smirk in direction of his twin.

"And you never told us _why_ you were here so early," he added as if he didn't already know the answer, blinking inquiringly down at the girl who he was still supporting, hands under her arms. "Besides, we have a very interesting story you'd love to hear involving water balloons, several kilograms of molasses, and the rest of our linen–"

"Don't spoil it!" Katja cut in quickly as she righted herself and began backing up, slowly, towards the door. "I'd much rather hear it when everyone else does. But, uh, I'll see you two later, okay?"

"Alright – _bis später_, Katja," said both the Hitachiins in identical singsong voices, smiling smugly as her shoulders tightened up towards her ears. Without another word, Katja sped out of the room, leaving the door to bang against the wall in her wake. Moments later, there was another slam from down the corridor, making it obvious that she had just sprinted into her cabin.

"_Okay, Hitachiin Kaoru, fess up_," demanded Hikaru as he rounded on his brother, an accusatory finger poking neat patterns across his chest. "_What could you have possibly done to make her turn tail and run like that_?"

"_Do_?" Kaoru repeated, offering only an annoyingly complacent grin. "_I didn't _do_ anything_."

"_Bull_shit_. Don't be a jerk; you're obligated to tell me her weakness. She already knows mine, who knows when she'll use it_…"

"_Oh_ _calm down, Hikaru_," replied Kaoru, and he rolled his eyes. "_I just toyed with her, is all_."

"_With Katja_?" Hikaru shook his head in disbelief. "_I thought we'd already ruled out that method as useless. She's the same as Haruhi in that sense, only less…stupid_."

"_Well apparently not. Because to her, I've just been teasing_."

"_Yeah but_– _wait,_ _you weren't_?" It took a moment for Hikaru's mind to catch up. "_You _weren't!" He paused, pieces falling into place. "_But…we only talked about this the other day, meaning…you started this before you asked me, didn't you_?"

"_I did_," Kaoru admitted, biting his lip out of guilt. This certainly hadn't been the direction he had been going, but it had been bound to come out sooner or later. "_I'm sorry, Hikaru, but I...I didn't know what to think_."

"_There's no reason to apologize_," his brother scolded back mockingly as he fell back onto the mattress beside him, bouncing sideways and pressing his cheek against his side. "_I'm just surprised, is all. I mean, after the thing with Haruhi_–"

"_Which we are not going to talk about_–"

"–_Which we are not going to talk about, I didn't realize you actually were _serious."

"_Neither did I_," agreed Kaoru earnestly, stroking his brother's hair. "_And neither did Katja_."

"_Mm. So is that why she ran off_?"

Kaoru shrugged. "_I think so. Can never tell with her, though_."

"_You didn't spring it on her, obvious-like, did you_?" Hikaru asked, crinkling his nose in distaste, but Kaoru shook his head.

"_Where's the fun in that? No, I just gave her something to think about_."

"_Ooh, psychological torment_," teased Hikaru, rolling his eyes, but his lips had curled into an approving grin. "_You're turning into Mom, you know that, right_?"

To this, Kaoru could only laugh.

"_I guess so._

* * *

Katja tightened her gloved hands over the metal rail, the salty air stinging her throat as she sucked in a breath. The view that was laid out before her was spectacular. Over the harbor of Valdez, bustling with tugboats and fishing ships, purple mountains capped with snow dominated the horizon, wispy clouds pulled thin like cotton stretched across the icy blue stratosphere. As though in revolt against the bright sky above, the ocean retained its shades of steely gray, frothy waters lapping steadily at the bolted sides of the cruise ship as it was secured to the dock.

Bar pressed against her stomach, Katja leaned forward to watch the men below on the cement pier as they hauled plastic barrels filled with unknown liquids, laughing and shouting while they tossed each other lengths of rope and chain. Furrowing her brow at the whimsical scene, Katja straightened and released the rail before shoving her hands in her pockets moodily, turning round with her back towards the harbor.

She couldn't stand the happy sight anymore; it only reminded her of her sour mood.

It _should_ have been the start of the perfect Christmas holiday. But no. Shadow King Ootori had chosen_ this_ as the time to live up to his title, and Katja was skeptical about his impeccable timing.

How he had single handedly managed connections with the family of the prime minister of Belgium, Katja really had no idea. While she knew the intelligent thing to have done would have been to simply drop the entire matter,considering that the chances of her _actually_ finding out were slim to none; she couldn't seem to let this one go. It was simple enough a task to contact her parents, and she could think of multiple motives for doing so, but this…_this_ was a different matter entirely.

This was a whole new level of sly.

_This_ was Kyouya weaseling his way not only into her career, but also into the private life she had outside of Japan, something that had absolutely nothing to do with Ouran or the Host Club. Her business and relationship with the Letermes did not impact Kyouya Ootori whatsoever. She had no idea whatsoever as to what he was planning to door why. For all she knew, Kyouya could have secretly been an alien from Mars planning to hold the prime minister's family at ransom for his position of international power, ransack the United Nations, build a nuclear arsenal, and somehow manage to take over the world. Well, he had already managed the whole 'taking over the world' thing (and besides this was Belgium, not North Korea)…

So why was he bothering?

This was the one question Katja was hopeless against, and it was this that made her angry. He had used her own trademark trait against her: unpredictability. Her brow dipped and she scowled at the folding chairs propped against the wall, chewing her lip savagely. No, it was hardly a coincidence. There were no such things as coincidence with Kyouya.

This had _not_ been part of the deal.

Katja groaned loudly, running her hands through her sandy hair in frustration. She felt like pummeling something. Something like Kyouya's head.

She was ready to kill him.

Him _and_ Kaoru.

Katja tensed instantaneously, giving her curls a smarting yank.

No, no, no. She wasn't ready to even begin thinking about _that_ right now. That was a problem she was going to have to put off until this whole ordeal was over; she didn't think her brain could stand another host taking stabs at her sanity. What was _with_ them, anyway? Did they coordinate their attacks, just to drive her crazy?

She sighed heavily and dropped her arms to her sides. Well whatever it was, it was working.

Hitching her collar up round her neck as an icy breeze whipped past from behind, Katja was considering going inside and scoping out Haruhi, who had been mysteriously absent since earlier that morning, when the door to the first class lounge opened and two people stepped out. She had been poised to turn tail and run, thinking it was the Hitachiin menace, but when she saw whom it was, she changed her mind.

"Oh, hi," she breathed in surprise, raising a hand in an awkward gesture of greeting to the two visitors. Takashi said nothing, merely tilting his head in recognition, the perfect foil to his sparkling cousin, who ran forward with a squeal to grab her hand, his golden brow pinched with concern.

"Are you okay, Kat-chan?" Mitsukuni asked, his voice coaxing as he frowned. "Takashi and I could see you out the lounge window, and you looked sad so…" He paused, rubbing her gloved hand between his own two mittens. "How long have you been out here? Aren't you cold?"

"I was just going to come in, actually," Katja replied with a small smile, hoping to deter him. If he caught onto anything, she wouldn't be able to say no. She quickly changed topics. "Have you seen Haruhi lately?"

At this, Mitsukuni looked over his shoulder and exchanged a disguised glance with his cousin. Turning back, the blond nodded. "Haru-chan was with Kao and Hika-chan earlier, but Takashi and I don't know what they were doing."

Obviously not the entire truth, but Katja wasn't willing to push further.

"Were you looking for her?" queried Takashi, his deep and often unheard voice startling Katja. She shook her head.

"No, but when I got back to our cabin, she wasn't there, so I–"

"'Got _back_ to your cabin'?" repeated Mitsukuni, interrupting her skillfully and somehow managing to remain as innocent as ever. Katja couldn't help but grimace. Mitsukuni's obscenely copper eyes had widened considerably, his mouth pulled into a curious cherry blossom pout. He was doing_ it_…again. "Where had you been, Kat-chan?"

"Oh, you know," laughed Katja nervously, waving her free hand too quickly to be considered completely casual, "nothing really." She realized this far too late, however, stuffing it into her jacket pocket hurriedly. Her giggling trailed off when Takashi and Mitsukuni exchanged another look.

The seconds ticked past in silence.

"Okay, _fine_," said Katja exasperatedly when she couldn't take the suspicious stares anymore, knocking her wrist against her forehead for dramatic effect.

"If you really want to know, this morning I went to go get everyone up because I thought we should leave early. I went into Hikaru and Kaoru's cabin first, but they launched a confetti cannon at my face, and I tripped and smashed my nose on the floor. So then I tried beating them up, and of course that didn't work, but there was blood all over _everything_ so then I left and Haruhi wasn't in our room, and I was upset because Kaoru was giving me bullshit and I didn't know what to do so I took a shower to scrub the blood out of my hair and then I came out here…and then you two showed up and…and now I'm crying and acting pathetic b-because everything is turning up_ crap_!"

By the time she had finished her rant, her level of volume had reached that of a hysterical shout, causing the hosts to stare in shock. Even the workers below glanced around uncomfortably. Katja felt like a complete idiot as her lower lip began to tremble and her vision swam; she hadn't actually been crying until she had said the word. But now she was in full-faucet mode, effortless to stop the torrent of tears as she covered her face with her hands.

In an almost subconscious response, Takashi and Mitsukuni immediately switched into host mode. The former stepped forward quickly, lowering both hands onto her shoulders while his cousin, who was almost crying himself now, wrapped his arms round her midsection, pressing his face into the wool of her peacoat.

"Please, Kat-chan, don't cry," Mitsukuni pleaded, his voice muffled by material as he tilted his head to peer up her, eyes brimming with guilty tears. He hiccupped and squeezed, earning himself a parting of the fingers on Katja's left hand. "I'm so sorry, we didn't mean to make you sad, we just wanted to help."

As much as she _wanted _to stop, as much as she _didn't_ want to cry, as thoroughly disgusted she was with herself, Katja couldn't halt onslaught of emotion. She supposed she should have seen it coming; all the confusion, frustration, and even happiness she had been holding behind a dam in her chest since she had first become involved with the Host Club had been bound to burst sometime. Katja had never had to deal with friends and all the emotion that came with them, and she was clueless as what to do in this sudden overexposure.

Clueless was not a thing Katja was used to being.

It was such an unusual feeling, crying, and even more so being comforted. Sure, Katja had had her fair share of tears and tantrums when she had been a child, adapting to a new lifestyle and constantly changing scenery, but those had melted away with the years. There had been nothing for her to cry about; her parents adored her and she was doing the one thing she loved most – music. And, even as she got older, when rich girls pulled her hair and called her raucous names in back rooms at their parents' parties, Katja kept it to herself. Emotions were annoying complications neither she nor her parents needed; she had a responsibility, a duty to her family, and nothing was more important than that.

She_ should_ have still held that view, too, but then the Host Club had gotten involved, something Katja had not foreseen, or even imagined. The Host Club and its infuriating, flattering, insistent, unavoidable members had made her soft, and she wasn't sure this was a good thing. What was she going to do when she went back home? Pretend as though nothing had happened? The very thought made her chest ache.

Katja hadn't understood what was so unusual about her personality, why adults found her intriguing and the children spit insults at her from behind their hands. Sure, she had thought it strange, but she had never been able to come to a feasible conclusion. Until now.

She was cold.

The answer was apparent, so _obvious_, but Katja knew why she hadn't seen it sooner. It was the way she had taught herself to deal with her own emotion, and that was by ignoring it. Adults like it because she was well mannered, intelligent, confident, and children her own age hated her because she _wasn't_ _like them_. She could be friendly, she could be snide, she could be persuasive, but she could never be one of them.

That Katja Goldsmith, they said, she isn't normal. She acts like she's so high above us. Who does that girl think she _is_? She a born and bred commoner!

And Katja couldn't disagree. She knew what she was, and she didn't mind. She knew she was better than other children her age, everyone told her so. She was doing something with her life, she was providing for herself and her family. But that hadn't been all.

"_You're going to be famous one day, Katja_. _Famous…."_

At the time that her mother had said it, Katja had wanted it, wanted it with everything she was. She _wanted_ to be famous, she wanted the rest of the world to see what she was doing, not just the rich families in Vienna and Berlin. But now, now that she had gained an international title, now that her name was in record shops and book stores across the world, now that she knew what she had been missing…Katja wanted to be normal.

For the first time in her life, Katja Goldsmith was unhappy. And it for this reason that she could not stop herself from sobbing.

Takashi and Mitsukuni, in all their experience and perceptive nature, must have sense that she was crying for more reasons that simply having to admit that she had a fool of herself, for they had fallen silent, simply holding her close as she swayed slightly, hiccupping. After all, wasn't embarrassing herself that something she did on a regular basis?

After what felt like an eternity had passed, when had Katja finally managed to control the sobs rattling her spine, she slowly removed her hands from her face as water running down her coat sleeves, cold against her skin. Her face was soaked, and an occasional tear still dripped from her chin, her eyes red and puffy from the tidal wave. Taking a steadying breath, Katja reached up, laying one moist hand over Takashi's arm and the other atop Mitsukuni tawny head, causing both to stir at the contact.

"Are you alright?" murmured Takashi, his deep voice reverberating inside her ear. She nodded, still waiting for the shota to remove his face from her coat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, combing a hand through the boy's hair, "I didn't mean for this to happen, I feel terrible for troubling you–"

"Don't say that, Kat-chan!" said Mitsukuni suddenly as he leaned back to look up at her, arms still clasped tightly around her waist. He wasn't crying anymore, thankfully, but wore an expression that a mother might wear while scolding a naughty child. "You could _never_ trouble us! We're your friends, Kat-chan, and that's what friends do for each other. They're there when you're sad, when you're happy, when you have an extra piece of cake…"

"The same can be said for the rest of the hosts, as well," Takashi added, giving her shoulders a firm squeeze. Mitsukuni bobbed his head in agreement.

"So don't _ever_ think that you're trouble," he continued, and Katja couldn't help mirroring the smile he beamed up at her, albeit on a smaller scale. "We love you, Kat-chan, and we'll always be here for you. No matter what."

This statement almost had her up in tears again.

"I love you all too," Katja said with another sniff, wiping quickly at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You mean so much to me, you couldn't possibly comprehend…."

"You know, Kat-chan, Kyo-chan told me that you hadn't ever had friends before us," Mitsukuni began tentively after a moment of silence. He worried his lip with his teeth, seemingly unsure of whether or not to continue. "Was…was that because you didn't _want _friends…?"

"No, not at all," she replied gently, hiccupping again as she gave his soft forehead a pat. "Before I came here, I never had time for friends, I was always busy. Coming to Japan is sort of a holiday for me…" She paused, sighing sadly. "And other kids my age never liked me anyway."

"What?" His amber eyes widened in surprise. He was apparently unfamiliar with the concept. "How did you know? Did you ask?"

"They weren't, uh, very nice to me."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mitsukuni gave her a comforting squeeze. "Well _I_ like you, Kat-chan. Everyone does! I can't see why anyone would ever be mean to you."

"_I can," _thought Katja grimly. _"You wouldn't like me normally…."_

"I think we should go inside," suggested Takashi quietly from behind her, distracting his cousin from asking any further questions. "Do you like hot chocolate, Katja?"

"Yeah yeah, that's a good idea, Takashi!" squeaked Mitsukuni, suddenly bouncing up and down with excitement. "Let's go inside for some, we can have some cake too!" Taking the German girl by the hand, he tugged her away from the ship's side and down towards the first class lounge door, leaving Katja to hook fingers with Takashi and drag him along as well.

"I think I want chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate shavings on top with my hot chocolate…"

Allowing herself to be guided inside by the muttering seventeen year old, Katja felt as though a great weight had been removed from her shoulders. The pain in her chest was gone, and despite the occasional shudder caused by her earlier hysterics, she found herself laughing along with Mitsukuni as they plopped into overstuffed chairs and dove into their chocolate feast.

She giggled when Mitsukuni smeared frosting on the tip of Takashi's nose, and when she reached over to do the same to him. She moaned when the cake had disappeared, both from disappointment and stomach pain, and she snorted when she caught a couple of girls ogling the pair of hosts from across the lounge. She didn't think about what the other people around them might have thought, or if they recognized her. It was such a liberating experience, and Katja could hardly believe that she had gone almost her entire life not_ living_ like this.

Leaning back into her chair and folding her hands inside her sweater pocket over her chocolate-filled stomach, Katja wondered idly how she was going to cope when she went back home to Germany in May. In her moment of complete happiness, she did not realize what exactly that though entailed. Besides, May seemed like a lifetime away, she didn't want to think about anything else besides the upcoming party and what she was going to tell Kaoru next time she saw him.

_This_ was a normal teenaged life.

And Katja had decided that she never wanted to give it up.

* * *


End file.
